


The Heart of the Mountain

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo is also an actual thief in this fic, Fi!Bilbo, M/M, Slow Build, Thorin is kind of creepy and gold obsessed in this fic, WTF there's a hobbit living inside my Arkenstone, and reading hyrule historia nonstop, did someone say AU, he's not Link no matter what he does, i'm not gonna call Thorin Link though, this is what i get for playing too much skyward sword
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 23,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo, a former thief, has been cursed to be the spirit of the Arkenstone. He has spent years serving Smaug, but once he is defeated he now belongs to Thorin, the grandson of the dwarf who cursed him.</p><p>Inspired by parts of The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword (ahahaha like only one thing inspired this fic, sorry but dwarves aren't gonna ride loftwings or anything).</p><p>You don't need to play Skyward Sword to read or understand this fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically Bilbo is Fi.
> 
> Yeah.

Thorin remembered seeing a man standing beside his grandfather. He'd been smaller than Thror, with a headful of orange-brownhair. Rather than wearing traditional dwarven clothing, he wore a red waistcoat over a loose white shirt and bright green pants. His feet had been large, and there had even been hair on them.

And here he was in front of him, looking as though he hadn't aged a day.

"Smaug," he said, his voice sounding strange, as if he hadn't spoken in a very long time. "Where is he?"

Thorin muttered, "He-he is dead."

The creature said nothing, no emotion on its face. Looking down, Thorin could see it really did have hair on its feet. How did hair grow there? Dwarves were well known for being covered in thick hair, but hair never grew there. He had no beard, which made Thorin wonder how he even stood next to the king of the Longbeards.

"That stone," the creature said, pointing at it, "does it belong to you?"

"I," Thorin said, "yes. I finally took it back from Smaug."

The creature's brown eyes were lifeless. He simply nodded, then bowed to him. "Hello, master. I am Bilbo Baggins, formerly of Bag End, and I am the spirit of the stone."

 

When Smaug had come, Thror had vanished. Bilbo did not question his disappearance at Smaug's command. It seemed the dragon took pleasure in Bilbo's suffering and confusion.

"Tell me again how you came to this fate," the dragon would say when he needed to be entertained. His words sounded sweet to hide the mocking tone. "I would like to know."

Bilbo would sigh and tell him once more. "My mother and I were great thieves. She had taught me since birth the art of stealing, and together we took as we pleased. We were good hobbits, though quite adventurous, and we would often give away what we stole to those who needed it. In our eyes we were heroes."

"Ah," the dragon said, "of course. Do you believe now that you were heroes?"

Bilbo nodded. "Of course I do. We helped those in need and asked nothing in return. The joy of stealing and getting away with it was all the payment we needed. One day we heard the dwarves had discovered a great treasure, enough to end all poverty in the Shire. Weather had messed up crops and many were hungry. We could not let our people starve. Besides, we had heard of the dwarf king's greed, and we knew he was a hoarder. My mother would not let one live in riches while many starved. Together we vowed to steal the Arkenstone."

"And you failed," Smaug said, no longer trying to hide his mocking tone.

"Yes, we failed. Thror would have killed my mother had I not stepped in. But the punishment he thought of. . ." As a spirit now, Bilbo could no longer cry, but how appropriate it would have been then. "He was one of the few dwarves who used magic, and he was quite powerful. He bound me to him and his ancestors as their eternal slave. I became one with the stone. No longer need I water, food, or air to breathe, for so long as the stone exists or is in the hands of someone, I am bound to serve them. He sent my mother off, and I know not of her fate."

"A pity," the dragon said, though he didn't mean it.

 

"He was my master for a great long time," Bilbo explained. He could feel the eyes of the dwarves on him, feel them judge him relentlessly. What they thought no longer really mattered, for he was stuck an eternal slave no matter what. "But now that Thror's heir is here, I am back to serving my true purpose." He stopped speaking, having done his command to explain everything. He'd spilled out his entire life story, along with explaining who everyone was, what hobbits and the Shire were, and why he did not age nor die.

Thorin said nothing, just looked down at the stone. "This all sounds impossible."

"I cannot blame you for thinking that." Bilbo sighed, then watched his body become like dust and return to the stone. It was strange going inside it, and he preferred not to, but he had to prove that he was not lying. When he came back out, all the dwarves seemed to be in a state of shock. "Do you not believe me?" Bilbo asked.

“No, no,” Thorin said. “How could we possibly deny what you said after that, that thing, happened?”

Bilbo nodded. “Is there anything you are in need of now?”

The dwarf shook his head, and Bilbo simply nodded.

“Just say my name and I will be at your side.” He vanished back into the stone.

Thorin clutched it tightly to his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin adjusts to having a servant that will never, ever disobey him.

The royal wings had been untouched by Smaug, giving Thorin a room to be alone in. There was so much rebuilding to be done, but he knew in the end it would be worth it. Once away from others, he leaned against the wall, the stone still faintly glowing in his hands. He couldn’t even begin to process what he’d just learned. His grandfather used magic? His precious Arkenstone now came with a person, and a creature called a hobbit no less? The Arkenstone had almost been stolen?

Thorin sighed, then placed the stone on the floor beside him. He whispered the hobbit’s name, wondering if maybe he’d just imagined it.

The hobbit appeared before him, disproving his theory. He didn’t know what to think.

“What would you like?” the hobbit asked.

 

Bilbo thought.

He thought about the Shire, and he thought about his mother, and he thought about if it was worth it. He had been a master thief, his mother having trained him to be even better than she was. It had been his job to carry on her legacy, and in the end all he’d done was save her from death.

His new master, Thorin Oakenshield, said that it had been over a century since Erebor had been taken. For over a hundred years Bilbo had served Smaug, and for a good many years his mother had been dead.

He’d dreamed of his mother coming to save him once, but he knew it wasn’t possible. When she’d been forced to watch what happened to him, Bilbo screamed at her to never come back.

“I’m doing this for you!”

Thror hadn’t been very hard to serve. He desired gold and jewels above people, and rarely did anyone other than him actually see Bilbo. Bilbo had always been thankful that things weren’t worse than they already were.

Smaug had been a bit different. He’d kept the stone with him at times, constantly commanding Bilbo to either go drag to him more treasures of Erebor, causing him to learn the city’s layout, or to find reasons to entertain him. Still, he was not as cruel as Bilbo originally expected him to be, though like all masters he was cruel in his own way.

“Tell me,” he said, “was it worth it?”

Bilbo had nodded. “It was for my mother.”

“Did your mother want you to do it?”

Bilbo shook his head, looking his master in the eyes. “No, but she could not die. I did this for her. I helped get her into that mess, so I had to get her out.”

“If you could change things, would you?”

Bilbo had hesitated. “To be completely honest, I do not know.”

When Smaug needed entertainment, Bilbo told him stories, not only of his life, but everything a hobbit knew. Even the simple tales Bilbo had been told in his early childhood kept Smaug interested. 

He thought about the fact that Smaug, the incredibly powerful and vicious creature that he was, killed by a mere man who knew how to shoot a bow. It was hard to believe, but he was supposed to believe what he was told.

“Disobey,” Thror had cried, “and I’ll destroy the stone. I’ll have my men kill your mother like the stupid thief she is!” But Bilbo knew he’d never really destroy the stone; it was far too precious to him. The way he looked at it would have made bile rise in Bilbo’s chest if that had still been possible.

He thought about Thror being dead, about Smaug being slain, about Thorin, the dwarf king he stood before him. He was neither happy nor sad. All he was now was doing what he was told to.

Thror could no longer kill his mother (and her being dead was a problem of its own), but if his grandson was anything like his grandfather then surely he’d exact vengeance on whatever was left of Bilbo’s family, perhaps even his people. He was a hero, or at least he hoped he was still one, so he did as told.

Heroes saved others, and this was Bilbo’s way of doing it.

 

“My grandfather could not do this,” Thorin said. “You are lying!”

“Do dwarves pride themselves in use of magic?” Bilbo asked, his voice as blank as his eyes.

Thorin clenched his fists. “Of course we don’t! Magic is for treeshaggers!”

Bilbo didn’t appear to judge him, relieving Thorin. If halflings really did have elf in their blood, he seemed to believe that he was too far removed from them to be offended. His ears were pointed, but they were certainly different from an elvish ear.

“He did not use magic in front of you because he knew even as king he would be mocked,” Bilbo stated. “I believe he may have even used magic more as his gold sickness got worse.”

Gold sickness, those were two words that Thorin never wanted to hear again. He could feel it biting away at him, but he couldn’t let it win, not if he wanted to be his best for his people. Thorin couldn’t end up like his grandfather.

“I saw you before,” Thorin said.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “He made sure that I was not seen by many others.”

“I saw you on accident,” Thorin admitted, “and for a time I thought you were someone he had, well, hired to fulfill his needs if you understand what I am saying. I always did wonder why he did not choose a dwarf though.”

“No, he never made me work for him in that way.”

“Oh.”

“If you would like me to do that for you then I will.” The way he said those words made Thorin realize just what a hollow shell the hobbit before him was. He had once been a master thief, a great one, and now he stood before him saying he would fulfill any of Thorin’s urges.

“No, I do not need you to do that for me.” Thorin said. The the hobbit was attractive, and the fact that he thought so surprised Thorin as he was quite ugly by dwarf standards. “Right now I need you to go change into a new pair of clothing. I’ve decided to change a few things. If you really are my servant now than you must at least dress nice. I am not hiding you like Thror did. Your position will be high up, but any dwarf in power is above you. If you really are tied to me than you will follow me and serve me whenever I am in need. Do you understand?” The words slid out surprisingly easy from Thorin’s mouth.

A look of confusion and shock went over the hobbit’s face, then just as quickly turned back into his blank look of suspicion. “Of course, master. Where would you like me to put my old clothes?”

“You are to dress as a dwarf, a fine dwarf but a dwarf none the less, now. I don’t want to explain much, so do your best to at least try to look like one. Give me your clothes once you’ve changed so that I may have them properly disposed of.” Bilbo nodded.

Thorin sighed. “The clothes are in the room across the hall. Get the dark blue robe.”

His servant nodded, then opened the door. Once he was gone, Thorin rubbed his forehead. He was thoroughly confused with the hobbit, along with everything. Still, Thorin seemed prepared already to deal with his strange new servant.

He might be of some use, Thorin thought, clutching the Arkenstone to his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo thinks.
> 
> I am terrible at summaries. I am so sorry.

When the hobbit came back he looked like a dwarf. He had no fake beard, but he knew Bilbo could lie and say something happened to it. His hairy feet were covered by thick, heavy boots, and though he’d remarked about hobbits absolutely hating the very idea of shoes of any kind (which only further proved Thorin’s point that hobbits were very, very strange creatures), he showed no physical signs of being bothered by them.

“Say you shaved it in grief,” Thorin said. It was a perfectly normal dwarven, though rarely practiced, grieving tradition, and it meant very, very deep grief. He would be well respected for it. “Say it is for your mother.” No emotion passed through Bilbo’s eyes, but Thorin guessed that if anything bothered him, it was the mention of his mother, the whole reason that he was in this predicament. Again, Bilbo showed no emotion. If it weren’t for the rare times Thorin had seen it flash on his face for a few seconds than he’d have thought the small creature was emotionless.

If Bilbo had held any emotional connections to his clothes, it did not show as he handed them over to Thorin. They were neatly folded, and after a moment it hit Thorin that Bilbo had been wearing them for over a century.

“If you would like,” Thorin said, “you may take a bath. I’ve checked, and no pipes seem harmed, and the water’s still as boiling as ever.”

“Would you like me to?”

Though he showed no signs of being dirty-there was no dirt or blood in sight on his pale skin-Thorin guessed that he hadn’t had a bath in a long time. “Please,” he said.

A look of concern passed through the hobbit’s face, and he looked down at his hands, then pulled up his sleeves to look at his arms. He seemed almost ashamed of being seen as dirty. “What should I do with my clothes now that they are already on?”

“You can wear something else,” Thorin said. “When you’re done, just grab another robe. You don’t need to get a new pair of boots, however.”

Bilbo nodded.

 

The hot water did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. His mind turned back to his mother, and he wondered how long she’d lasted after what happened. By now even she would be dead. Would it have been rude to have asked if Thorin could send someone to the Shire to try to find out what happened? Probably.

What Bilbo really hoped was that the last hours of her life had been happy, in whatever way she could make happiness. Maybe she’d found something else to help the hungry and poor hobbits of the Shire. Maybe she’d given up a life of thievery altogether (though Bilbo highly doubted this). Or could it be possible? She’d been a master at stealing, but she’d gotten her one and only son stolen from her.

The water was certainly hot; Thorin hadn’t been kidding. He didn’t mind the heat, however. It was harder for temperature to affect him now, which had certainly been useful when Smaug was around. He emitted an incredible amount of body heat, and it had left Erebor with a heat that made Bilbo think of the hottest summer days in the Shire. And Smaug had made him run around a lot, so he was glad that he could no longer become a sweaty, red faced mess.

Belladonna deserved to have lived a long, happy life. Bilbo had made himself a slave for eternity for that. He wanted to know if she’d died happy, if this sacrifice he’d made was actually worth it. If he were to find out that his mother died in anger or sadness then everything he’d given up would’ve been for nothing.

But if she did, Bilbo thought, who could blame her? Even after what I did she’d have to face the adjustment of never seeing her son again. No matter what I could have done, she would have still had to face the emotions that come with what I did. I couldn’t stop that.

He’d seen the way the dwarf king reacted to his emotions, or lack thereof. He did feel emotion, he did, but over the years he’d felt them less and less. It was better to think of them in private, when he would not risk anyone’s lives.

Bilbo cleaned himself, nearly rubbing his skin raw while he thought. He washed his hair five times, rubbed his skin with soap repeatedly, made his foot hair clean and scrubbed between his toes and on the soles of his feet, and when he finished squirted bottles of perfume on himself. They seemed rather old, but they still smelled good enough to use. He tried to make his curls look neat, though that was a hard job for a hobbit. Maybe his master would see he put in effort. Thankfully he hadn’t had any physical changes to his face when he’d been turned, no warts or pimples or wrinkles. Those he never would’ve gotten out, because like his hair, they would’ve not changed. Bilbo felt one of his curls, running it through his fingers. The texture and color hadn’t changed in over a century, and it hadn’t grown an even an inch. His foot hair also hadn’t grown, remaining the exact same.

Grabbing a fluffy white towel, Bilbo left his master’s bathroom (after making sure he hadn’t left hair in the bath or water on anywhere but a rug). He made not a sound, then slowly walked to the room where the clothes were kept. He grabbed a light purple robe and put it on, then the boots from earlier. How he hated the damn things, but he did not complain. It’s obvious his master had hunted for fine ones that would still fit his incredibly large feet.

When he found his master, he looked up to him. “Are you pleased?”

“Yes, of course,” the dwarf king said, seeming confused. A look of realization appeared on his face. He nodded. “Yes, I am pleased. Now I am going to ask something of you.”

“Anything,” Bilbo said, bowing.

“I reclaimed my kingdom with the help of eleven other dwarves,” he said. “Tonight I am having dinner with them. You’ve seen some of them before. Please come with me, and don’t act so, so like yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Act natural? Call me Thorin while you’re there, try to make conversation.” He pointed down at Bilbo’s boots. “These twelve are the only people who will know of your race. They’ll be meeting you eventually, so they might as well know what you really are. Take those off.”

Bilbo did so immediately.

Thorin chuckled. “I knew you would like that. Now follow me.”

“Yes mas-Thorin.”

When he said that, Thorin smiled for the first time at Bilbo.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insert terrible chapter summary here.

Bilbo recalled his adventures at command. He recalled how his mother had taught him her craft. She’d made it appear as though he were trying to learn something else, when in reality she was making him a master thief. He was by no means only a petty burglar. He’d started out with small missions-steal ing back the silver spoons Lobelia Sackville-Baggins stole, take a few books from his cousins, maybe steal a few jewels from his cousins if he had the chance-but they had progressed onto higher and higher levels.

The dwarves all listened with keen interest. It seemed he was the center of attention, all eyes drawn to him as if he were a magnet. Thorin smiled at him, filling Bilbo with relief. He was performing his task well.

“My mother never would save me,” he said, “unless it was really bad. She said she wouldn’t always be there for me.” And how right she’d been, though she hadn’t known it. “I had to dig my own hole and then pull myself out of it while she taught me how to hold a shovel.”

One of the dwarves, Bilbo thought he said his name to be Nori, laughed. “That sounds like a woman that I would’ve liked to meet.”

“Yes, she was a fabulous woman.” His voice held no emotion, however. If he heard himself he wouldn’t believe that he himself actually cared for her. But he did, he really did. “Everyone loved her.”

Thankfully, the company (save Thorin) had ingested a few mugs of alcohol, causing them to ignore Bilbo’s lack of emotions.

“She would get me up every day at the crack of dawn and have me repeat what I’d done the day before to make sure I understood it before teaching me something new.”

“Sounds like torture,” remarked Fili.

“Keep interrupting and Dwalin will do the same to you,” Balin said, causing he and his brother to burst out in laughter and Fili and Kili’s faces pale and to fill with pure dread.

“As I was saying,” Bilbo said when the two stopped laughing, “She also taught me a great deal of knowledge. I read out entire libraries, memorized maps while always keeping one handy, learned the monetary value of items until my eyes just about bled. My memory was stuffed with knowledge of every item under the sun. Then she’d make me play chess.”

Ori frowned. “But chess is a fine game!”

Bilbo nodded. “I know it is. But my mother just about made me the champion of it. ‘Chess takes skill’ was something she’s always say and she made sure that I had skill. I heard men actually had competitions where you could earn money from it. I’m surprised she didn’t force me to enter those as well to see how good I was. But everything I did well, she could always do better. I don’t want to discuss how many times she beat me at chess. I think I beat her once or twice and lost all the other constant games we had.”

“So you had high expectations as an heir as well?” Fili asked.

“You could say that,” Bilbo admitted. He appeared to have never thought of it that way. “That was just how life was for me. Thievery is an art and art needs to be mastered unless you have a natural skill for it. Though I had skill, my mother still made sure I knew just how to use it.”

“Did you ever steal from Thranduil?” asked Gloin. “Or any of the elves?”

“I never stole from the elves of Rivendell,” Bilbo said. “They were friends of my mother, though I don’t think they knew of the craft we practiced. She was close friends with Elrond.”

“We’ve met him!” Ori said. “He had a wonderful library but he made us eat green food.”

“That stuff was shit!” Kili said.

Ori laughed. “It was.”

Bilbo put his hands together. “Whenever we came we always did eat green food. My mother was used to it but I practically ran to find the nearest rabbit to kill. They did have good pie however.”

“That’s not fair!” Dori yelled. “We didn’t get any pies. Stupid treeshaggers!”

“Yuck,” Ori said. “What if they put green things in there as well? I wouldn’t be surprised iof they did.”

“But we did steal from Thranduil and the elves of Mirkwood,” Bilbo said, then was surprised by the sudden interest of everyone. “My mother and Thranduil could be considered allies in a way. If he wanted something stolen then she would do it, but at a price. I wouldn’t call them friends, but rather reluctant business partners. He did know of my mother’s craft and if it weren’t for that they probably never would have met. I never did like the man. I’d just try to avoid him whenever it was possible. And we always got stuff right from under his nose and left no proof that we stole it.”

“How?” Thorin asked. He wanted to know. If he’d known about this earlier then he would’ve sucked every bit of information he could out of his strange new servant. He suddenly felt a deep respect for him.

“We always did it when it could have been anyone else doing it,” Bilbo said, “which was when he partied.”

Figures, Thorin thought, thinking back to when he saw Thranduil incredibly drunk.

“And then he’d try to find who did it but never would,” Bilbo said. “We always gave the item back however.”

“What?” Dwalin roared.

“Why?” Bofur added, his voice just as loud.

Bifur yelled something in angry Khuzdul, though he spoke so fast that even Thorin could not understand it.

“Because what better way to embarrass him than to make him get into an uproar over something missing then for him to find it in places where he could think he accidentally put them? I honestly heard his son telling him to stop putting items in places he’d put them at when he was drunk and them blame them on thieves. It was the most hilarious thing that I had ever heard. His son was so embarrassed. He honest to Eru Iluvatar threatened to take away any object he found precious until his father stopped losing things and then finding them again.”

The dwarves burst out laughing, suddenly realizing why Bilbo and his mother gave everything back. They seemed even more proud of him for that then actually stealing the items.”

“We really should’ve had you with us on our journey,” Bofur remarked.

“Your journey?” Bilbo asked, his eyebrows raising in confusion. “What journey?”

Bofur looked Thorin in the eyes. “You never told him about our journey?”

“I didn’t see any reason to,” Thorin admitted, turning pink with embarrassment. He certainly didn’t look very kingly at that moment. He turned to his servant. “I only told you of Smaug’s death, not how we came to the mountain to kill him. My people had been driven out of our home by Smaug, but after a hundred years we came back for it. We travelled all across Middle Earth, fighting goblins, orcs, meeting others, and just about ripping each other apart when someone suggested we sing campfire songs. It was very long, we were tired and hungry most of the time, and during one part of it, while we were passing through Mirkwood, we were held captive by Thranduil. I was forced to negotiate with Thranduil to get us out, and he sent us to Lake Town by boat with great reluctance. In return I would make sure all future trade was agreeable. We’re still rivals, but he finally helped us, so we in return will try to trade with his people.”

“What do you mean by finally agreed to trade with yourselves?”

“He never offered us help after Smaug died.”

“I’m very sorry.”

The words seemed strange on Bilbo’s lip. Thorin was sure he did feel sorry, but the way he now spoke it sounded just like every other word he said, lifeless and hollow.

“I am sure I could have aided you in your journey,” he said. “I would have if I were able.” Thorin could not tell if he meant he would do so of his own free will or because he was now forced to do whatever he said.

Or maybe it was a mix of both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know how to do the barrel thing without the ring. So I changed it. I imagine the confrontation and agreement to be long and kind of boring, while simultaneously Thranduil and Thorin shoot daggers at each other and try to see who can be more of an asshole to the other.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo angsts.

They'd just gotten home from passing out food to hungry Shire children when Bilbo's mother had told him her plan. She'd shown him an old map, pointing at where the Lonely Mountain was.

"It will take over a year to get there," Bilbo said. "Why must we leave now? Do you not think the weather will have not returned to normal by then?"

"Would you rather deal with this again, or steal a stone so precious that if this happens again, all the hobbits will be economically prepared for it?" She gave Bilbo a small, sad smile. "We can get tons of items between the year," his mother said. "Besides, Erebor is quite a sight. Back in my youth I would leave it with mounds of gold weighing down my pockets."

Bilbo agreed to go. It wouldn't really hurt, would it? And his mother did have a very good point.

And how they'd stolen. In Rivendell Bilbo had met his mother's elf friends, even Lord Elrond. They hadn't actually stolen anything there, but if they had Bilbo wouldn't have minded.

Next, they'd stolen from a man named Beorn. It had been a quick but rather effective heist. Deep within Mirkwood, Bilbo and Belladonna robbed the Elvenking Thranduil from right under his nose and he hadn't suspected a thing. The prince Legolas had actually been a rather good lad, however. Bilbo never stole any of his things.

Next had come the town of Dale. They'd been regarded as rather strange travelers, giving away food to all the poor and without homes, but the town's master had thanked them for it. His mother had seen past his disguise and saw what a greedy man he himself was. She'd stolen money from him and fed all the more poor the next night. Once that was over, the two actually went to the mountain. No dwarf knew hobbits were actually there. Bilbo disguised himself as a dwarf, never knowing he'd have to do it again, and his mother pretended to be an old dwarf woman. She even faked a limp and used a stick as a makeshift cane. They said they were there to see family.

"My mother is getting old," Bilbo said. "She wanted to see her family one last time." She had complained quite a bit about that statement.

The guards gave sympathetic looks and let them through.

Once inside, Bilbo stood in awe while his mother gave him a knowing smirk. They tore off their boots, leaving them out for any miners in need of hobbit sized ones, then began to start getting ready. His mother now disguised herself as a traveler while Bilbo made sure hungry dwarf children ate. To think that children could be hungry in a land as plentiful as Erebor! It filled Bilbo with anger and fueled his desire to steal the Arkenstone. Both mother and son prepared to steal the Arkenstone, learning Erebor's basic layout and how to get to Thror's treasury. They worked slowly, making sure to go just when the time was right.

Bilbo had nearly passed out in shock when he'd seen Thror's treasury. There was enough gold in here to make sure the hungry children of Erebor, Dale, and the Shire got seven meals a day every day!

Eru Iluvatar, Bilbo thought. And that man has the nerve to ignore how hungry his own people are. I might as well just usurp the throne myself.

Belladonna was supposed to steal the stone herself. Though it sat inside Thror's throne, every night he brought it with him to the treasure room. Inside, he lay in the gold, looking at it as one would look at a person. Bilbo felt his supper coming up and had to force it back down. He needed to not have just been sick when he ate dinner.

Thror had been so fixated on the gold that for some time he didn't even notice the Arkenstone. His mother had taken it from him and was about to escape back to the shadows, unseen and unheard, and had it not been for taking the Arkenstone it would have been like she was never there. Thror suddenly felt for it, causing Bilbo to cringe from the top of the beam he was on.

Thror turned and saw his mother, then took out his battle axe and threw it at her. She jumped over it and did a cartwheel, but lost the Arkenstone in the process. It hit the gold coin covered floor and made a clattering sound. It was only a few feet away from her, but she didn't have time to grab it. Thror got her first. His meaty fist wrapped around her neck. "And you, thief," he said looking down at her feet, "I don't know why you want to steal the heart of my mountain, but you will die for it." He took a knife strapped to his side and began to pull it up from his side. His hands did not shake.

Bilbo could steal, but he had not the ability to let someone die. "Stop!" Bilbo yelled.

Thror suddenly looked around the treasury for the voice. "Show yourself or you are nothing but a coward!" he roared.

Bilbo jumped from the ledge and hit the floor, not even flinching when the gold coins hit his feet. He was like a cat-always able to land on his feet. He walked up to where Thror and his mother were standing. He reached out and grabbed the Arkenstone, holding it out to him. He was thankful that the grip around his mother's neck had lessened considerably.

"She did not cause this robbery," Bilbo said, trying to look confident. "I did."

Thror laughed. "And yet she was the one who took the Arkenstone."

"But she was dragged here by me," Bilbo said. He looked over at his mother, who seemed utterly confused at why he was saying that. "I forced her to do this with me. If anyone should die, it is me."

Thror took the stone from Bilbo, then dropped his mother on the ground. "This woman is very dear to you," he said.

"Yes," Bilbo said. "And I repaid her love for me by taking her here. I am a fool."

"I have never met a criminal like you," he said, a gleam in his eyes. "But all criminals must be punished."

"If you let her go then I will take her punishment for her."

"Ah, but we dwarves are quite cruel with our punishments. I'm not sure you'd even survive past your first punishment."

"I have been considered quite resilient, and I'm sure you can see why. I can handle whatever burden you place on me."

The dwarf king smiled. "Actually, I think you would." He turned to Bilbo's mother and looked her in the eye. "Run along now, and don't ever show your filthy face in my kingdom ever again."

His mother looked to Bilbo, and in his eyes he pleaded with her to run. She obeyed and began to run, her formerly neat exterior gone. Her face was red with sweat, she smelled awful, her curly hair was a mess, and her clothes turned. When she was gone, Thror turned back to Bilbo. Only then did he see that while he watched his mother flee, Thror had gotten golden chains. He bound his feet together, then placed the stone in his hands. A look in his old blue eyes chilled Bilbo to the bone.

"Take the stone," Thror said mockingly. "It is yours now." He laughed, and Bilbo didn't know what to think. What was he doing? Was the old man reay mad due to his obsession with gold? All the while he clutched the stone in his hands, holding it as if it would protect him.

Thror began to chant something. Bilbo felt chills run up his spine, but he couldn't move. His heart beat against his chest.

Then the pain started. It hit him hard, and he wondered if he would die. It felt like he was being ripped into shreds like a piece of paper. Thror's words were ominous, but he tried to hide his fear.

He gave up when he saw his hands begin to move into the stone. It gave off a white light. Bilbo tried to scream, but his mouth wouldn't move. Then his body was gone.

"Come back out," Thror commanded, and somehow Bilbo did. He still didn't know how.

Bilbo saw his body slowly reappear before him. He should have felt sick, but he did not. He was also no longer craving another meal.

"Hello servant," Thror said, holding up the Arkenstone. "It is time to begin your punishment." And then he explained what he'd done, causing Bilbo's head to spin. Still, everything had been proven true. He'd held his breathe ever since Thror remarked him as unable to need air, and he did not. His body would return to the stone as if they were connected.

And when he threatened to kill his mother if he did not obey, Bilbo believed him. He saw his mother out of the corner of his eye and yelled. "Leave! I did this for you, now leave!" He wanted to cry, but according to Thror stone spirits were unable to make tears.

When his mother was truly gone, Thror clutched the Arkenstone tightly, a smug smile on his face. "Do help me," he said. "I am just a poor old man in need of help."

Bilbo showed no visible anger, just helped him. The face of his mother still in his mind, and never would he forget the look of horror she held, or the pure dread in her green eyes.

He told Thorin this story, but he did not ask for the full story. Bilbo refrained from telling him his more offensive views on Erebor's former king. If he did tell, perhaps a current Baggins would end up lying bleeding in a shallow grave. That death, however, was preventable.

What bothered Bilbo the most, however, was the emotionless look in his eyes, empty look in his master's eyes. Bilbo had no doubt at all that he truly was the heir of Thror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect more angst, and lots and lots and lots and lots of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gives Thorin a massage.

“Uncle,” Kili said.

Thorin sighed. “Can’t you see that I have paperwork to do?”

Fili nudged Kili with his elbow. “Our uncle’s doing paperwork now! Who would’ve thought?”

Kili laughed. “This journey really has changed him.”

Thorin clenched the pen he held so hard that it snapped in two, and what a waste. It had been a perfectly good pen. “Fili, Kili,” he said, shooting daggers at them. If looks could kill then he’d have to get another heir. “What must I do to make you stop bothering me?”

The two giggled.

“Not much,” Kili said, waving his hand. “We just want to see that strange stone creature from yesterday.”

Thorin shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” Fili asked.

“You aren’t touching the Arkenstone.”

“But we just want to borrow that weird hairy-foot thing!”

Thorin released a heavy sigh he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Bilbo,” he said, watching the hobbit leave the stone from the corner of his eye, “please accompany my nephews.” He turned to the boys. “If you do anything then you are in trouble. Remember, he works for me, not you, and he does not have to obey all of your ridiculous quests. The burglar will only do what he believes to be right, and I’m sure he can tell what is and isn’t. If you cause trouble then he will come back and tell me.”

“Of course, master,” Bilbo said.

Thorin’s nephews were angry at their restrictions, but Thorin was glad that he’d nipped trouble in the bud. “When I die you may do whatever you please with him,” Thorin said, “but until then he answers only to me.” He had said before that Bilbo answer to any high up dwarf, but he clearly hadn’t thought things through. “Now go.” He hoped he would not regret this.

 

Bilbo firmly shook his head again. “I keep telling you, no!”

“But we want to see if you’re a thief!” Fili said. “We just want you to steal Bofur’s hat.”

Bilbo had seen him the night before, and he had been quite polite. “I serve your uncle, not you.”

“We’ll tell him you were rude to us,” Kili said.

“And what do you think would make him believe you two? He knows what troublemakers you are.”

Fili sighed. “We thought this would be fun. You’re the most boring person we’ve ever met.”

“And to think,” Kili said, “you sounded so interesting when we heard that you were a thief.”

Bilbo sighed. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Yes!” Fili yelled.

Bilbo didn’t even blink at his anger. He turned on his heel and walked away, back to the Erebor royal chambers. He ducked past curious faces, doing his best to not appear too nimble to be a dwarf. That was quite hard, however.

Once inside his master’s room again, he spoke. “I’m back,” he said.

“I heard the door,” Thorin said sarcastically. “So how bad were my nephews?”

“They demanded I steal Bofur’s hat,” Bilbo said. “We stood outside his toy shop looking awfully queer.”

“It definitely sounds like something they’d do,” he said.

“Might I ask you something?”

“Yes,” Thorin said, somewhat surprised at being asked something.

“You said I was suddenly no longer to obey anyone but you. Only a while ago you said I was to obey any high up dwarf. What made you change your mind, if it not rude to ask?”

“I realized that you’d be obeying my nephews,” Thorin said, his tone becoming a bit lighter. “That would have made things in Erebor worse than they already are.”

Seeing the stress on his face, Bilbo felt sorry for him. When Thorin turned away from him, Bilbo walked up to him and began to massage his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Thorin asked.

“A massage,” Bilbo said. “It’s meant to relieve the nerves, release stress.” He hoped he wasn’t offending him. He quickly removed his hands. “I’m sorry, it was wrong of me to do so.”

“No,” Thorin continued, a hard glint in his eyes. It faded. “It felt nice. Continue on.”

Bilbo did. His mother had taught him proper massage techniques to help the two unwind after rather long, hard missions. He’d never imagined that he’d use his skills on a dwarf king, but his life had never been one to expect anything. Still, it was hard to believe that he got there. Only a little over a century ago (and now that he could not die a century felt like no time at all) he had been free, running across Middle-Earth and causing havoc, leaving with filled pockets in hopes of being able to make the world a better place.

Thorin seemed to be doing fine, a small smile dancing on his lips. He was able to focus more clearly on his work, some trade agreements from Dale. He moved at a rhythmic pace. “If I hadn’t told you to not obey them, would you have stolen Bofur’s hat?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I must do as commanded.”

Thror had once told him that his immortal life was meant now to serve, nothing else. He’d had an angry look in his eyes and a smug smile on his face. Yes, what a punishment this truly was for Bilbo.

“Even if the command is wrong?”

“No matter how immortal. Smaug made me do terrible things,” Bilbo said, “but I had to obey him.”

“Did Smaug ever try to kill you with fire?”

“When he first saw me, yes,” Bilbo said. “But once he saw his flames left not a single burn on me or for a hair to leave my head, he believed everything I had to tell him.”

“What are some of the terrible things he made you do?” Thorin asked, clearly curious.

“I try not to think about it,” he said, “but if you wish to know I’ll tell. There were travelers, a group of men with about twenty or so people in it which included a few children, and they had all come to inspect the mountain. In the night I stole one of their children and cut their throat, leaving their body mutilated by their campfire. Smaug said I had to, in hopes that they would leave. It certainly did drive them off. No travelers came by that either of us knew of since. I’d tell you how long it’s been since it happened, but I have had no way to recount time. For all I know it could have been a mere decade ago.”

“So if I asked for you to kill someone you would?”

Bilbo nodded. “I can’t say that I’d enjoy it, but yes, I certainly would. Are you interested in ending the life of Thranduil?”

Thorin laughed, a genuine laugh. “You make a tempting offer, Halfling, but no, I was only wondering. I’ll be sure to remember your offer for later, however.”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've had this idea in my head for a little side plot to my story. The ring was destroyed as it was meant to be 2,000 years before this fic, so it's not a problem in this fic. However, I wanted Frodo to have somehow been tied to a magic ring somehow like Bilbo was to the Arkenstone cause I think that'd be a cool idea. What do you guys think? I'll only do it (or not) by what you guys as a majority want. So what do you guys think? I didn't just want to suddenly add it without what you guys thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting is held over trade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I've thought it through and Frodo won't be in this fic, nor will he be tied to a gold ring. I might do a spin off story about it, but it won't work well in this story.

Dain was the most questioning about the new "dwarf", and Bilbo repeated everything that Thorin had demanded he tell.

"Yes, I am in grief," he said.

"And your mother died how?" Dain demanded. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Bard released a heavy sigh. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a jackass, Dain? Just because you rule the Iron Hills doesn't mean that you can intimidate whoever you like. It's obvious Thorin appointed him for a reason. Or has grief simply never struck your heart before, Dain?"

Dain growled, "Did you not see my men fall?"

"I did," he said, "and I helped bring them to you. His mother likely didn't die in battle, and if she did what a great woman she was, but grief is not something to doubt. My people may now have homes and food and a fire to warm their faces and hands, but they not have the family they lost."

Bilbo was still slightly confused about the Battle of Five Armies. Thorin had given him a very brief explanation, less than twenty words, and he didn't ask him any more about it lest he seem rude. He just nodded when others mentioned the battle and spoke the bare minimum he could on it. The only one he knew who died in it was Smaug, and that was technically before the battle even began.

Dain scowled at Bilbo, then seemed perplexed by Bilbo's lack of emotions. He seemed to be used to being feared by others when he let his anger show; Bilbo wouldn't give him the benefit.

Thorin came back into the meeting room, a scowling Thranduil at his side. They both looked like they'd need restraints soon or else they'd rip each other to shreds right there in front of the others, including Legolas the elf prince, Thranduil's son, who stood in the corner in silence.

"We're ready to discuss trade," Thorin said, his voice barely above a growl. Thorin's anger made Dain look like he had just gotten a new sword. "So, who wants to put some ideas on the table before we get deep in it?"

"We have good farmland leftover, thankfully." Bard said. "I just wish to know how many dwarves you expect to arrive soon? As of now both my people and yours can live well, but we might need to farm more if your population increases at a large amount."

"I never thought of that," Thorin admitted, "and as of now I can't give you an exact estimate."

A look of distress passed over Bard's face. "Are you sure you can't at least try to give me an idea? It doesn't even have to be completely accurate."

Thorin sighed.

"We grow food in Mirkwood," Thranduil said.

"And how does it last without sunlight?" Thorin retorted.

"We elves have our secrets," Thranduil said.

"You blasted treesh-"

Thankfully, Bilbo interjected at the right time. "Do you need money for more seeds, Bard? We have gold to go around."

"Well, yes, though we wouldn't need that much."

"Good! All the more money to buy food with."

Bard smiled.

"And I know some great tips for you and your people." Bilbo said. "Back in my days of travels I learned tricks for many trades, and one was farming. Interested in hearing?"

Thorin seemed a bit confused that Bilbo was speaking more than three words at a time, but he did not object to Bilbo speaking. Bilbo prayed to not accidentally anger his master, then waited for Bard to answer.

"It wouldn't hurt to hear," Legolas said with a smirk.

"Tell me," Bard said, seeming completely fine to hear. Bilbo quickly looked to Dain, who seemed slightly interested, a dark eyebrow raised.

Bilbo began to speak off the most basics of ways that hobbits grew food, yet they were secrets kept from others. By the time he finished speaking, everyone was interested.

"I can't believe we never thought of that before," Bard admitted. "And to think, it seemed so obvious!"

"I can't say it fixes everything," Thorin said with a genuine smile on his lips (and Bilbo was beginning to really like this smile), "but it definitely helps."

The rest of the meeting Bilbo barely spoke. He had no comments to make on the trade of furniture or wood, but he kept an interested look on his face and smiled and nodded every once in a while. Legolas did the same as well, except he didn't bother to hide his disinterest. Bilbo would try to see if their was the faintest hint of recognition in his eyes, but neither he nor his father showed any. Was he really that unrecognizable while still having not changed in over a century? The two elves hadn't changed at all physically and yet one look and Bilbo knew who they were. He almost wanted to quickly pull him away and reveal the truth, but he knew doing that would only enrage Thorin. And what a temper he had shown! Bilbo was surprised Thorin hadn't pulled him away for a second and told Bilbo he needed him to steal something yet from Thranduil-his life.

After many long, boring hours, the meeting ended. Everyone left the room they'd been discussing in, which by then smelled heavily of dwarf, elf, man, and just slightly of hobbit.

Then they ate, save Bilbo, who lied and said he had other business to do.

"I am quite sorry," Bilbo said.

"No, we realize that you spent so many hours with us," Bard said. "I do hope that we can at least talk some other time. With you it is a great pleasure!"

"Why thank you," Bilbo said, smiling at the comment. Smiling felt strange on his face now, and it probably looked stranger on him than it did on Thorin.

He checked to see if Thranduil or Thorin recognized him once more, but they showed no sign of it. He really did make a good dwarf.

 

Thorin walked into his room, finally glad that his dinner was over. It had been nice to speak with Dain again, and he liked seeing Bard again. They were now getting along well, and before Bard had left for the room he stayed in that night he asked Thorin to compliment Bilbo once more.

Thorin was surprised that Bilbo was sitting in a chair in his room reading a book rather than inside his stone.

Bilbo immediately closed his book. "Master," he said, standing up. "Do you need help with anything?"

Thorin shook his head, then began to take off his jacket. "No, but thank you for the offer." He put his jacket up, watching Bilbo's face never change in the slightest. "I actually came to tell you that Bard seemed to have caught quite a liking to you."

"Oh," Bilbo said, clearly waiting for whatever Thorin had to say next.

"I want to say thank you for what you did," Thorin said. "I never could have done that by myself, and I fear without you things wouldn't have gone nearly as well."

"So you are pleased with me?" His voice was filled with desperation.

"Of course I am. How could I not?"

The question seemed to put the halfling on edge. His lower lip quivered.

"What I was trying to say," Thorin said, walking up and pulling the hobbit into a tight embrace, "is thank you. You really helped me today."

Bilbo seemed tense, clearly not used to being touched after a long time, and his attempts at returning it were pathetic. Thorin felt sorry for him once more.

"You are the greatest servant anyone could ask for."

The look of absolute relief on Bilbo's face comforted Thorin. He embraced the hobbit a little tighter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Bard talk.

"Bilbo," Thorin said, looking over to the slightly glowing stone. He no longer was surprised when a body suddenly appeared and the stone stopped glowing.

"Master," Bilbo said, bowing to him.

"Bilbo, I've been meaning to say-" Thorin said, then stopped. "Never mind, we'll discuss this later."

A look of pure horror crossed Bilbo's face, and dread filled his eyes. "Have I done something, anything to offend you?"

"No, of course you haven't," Thorin said, then smiled. He spoke again once the halfling's face filled with relief. "You're actually short on time?"

"What?"

Thorin clapped Bilbo on the back. "Bard wants to see you again before he leaves for Lake Town. It seems you're quite good at impressing others!"

Bilbo returned to his regular, empty face. He nodded. "Of course. I will go now."

"Congratulations again," Thorin said. "Bard is acting as though you're Eru Iluvatar's gift to the world itself." He quickly added, "Which is a good thing."

 

Bard wrapped an arm around Bilbo when he arrived. Bilbo tried to act natural.

"It's good to see you again!" Bard said, then held up a brown notebook. "I made sure to write down everything you suggested."

"Thank you," Bilbo responded. "I do hope that they'll be of use to you and your people in the future."

"I'm sure they will," Bard said. He smiled at Bilbo. "That's all I need to tell you, but I'd be happy to discuss a few things with you."

"Like what?" Bilbo hoped to keep his favor, knowing Thorin would like that.

"Well, I guess I just want to know more about your travels. Where did you learn these things?"

"For some time I stayed in a place called the Shire shortly after Erebor was taken." The words left Bilbo's mouth naturally. "It was a peaceful place inhabited by creatures called hobbits. It was easy to get good food and money there, so I stayed as long as I could."

"Hobbits," Bard said, "you mean halflings, don't you?"

"Yes, but they prefer to be called hobbits."

"Interesting," Bard said with a nod of his head. "Where else have you gone?"

"Rivendell, the elf city," Bilbo said, and then to sound like a true dwarf, added, "I only stayed long enough to get supplies, then got out as fast as I could."

Bard laughed. "Anywhere else?"

"I traveled through the Misty Mountains, and I can assure you that that wasn't a very exciting thing to do. If it weren't for the risk of getting eaten by some nasty beast then I probably would've fallen asleep."

"I can't blame you," Bard said. "Have you killed any beasts?"

"Dozens," Bilbo said. "Did you think I couldn't or hadn't?"

"I was just curious," Bard said. "I killed Smaug, but who doesn't know that. I accidentally hit him in the right place, on his left breast, and suddenly I'm a hero. I don't know where I got that luck from, but I am quite thankful for it."

"Smaug's worth a thousand beasts," Bilbo said. "No, even more. You really did get the luck." It felt strange insulting his former master out loud, but it sent a thrill up Bilbo's spine, something he hadn't felt since his days as a mortal thief. That time seemed far too long ago.

"I wonder why it was me though," Bard said. "Anyone can wield a bow."

"Talk to some other dwarves and they'll say quite the contrary. The only dwarf bowman I know is the prince Kili. Dwarves seem to think there's something inherently wrong about bows, and yet it saved their kingdom."

"Can you wield one?"

Bilbo nodded. "I know how to use it, but I am no archer." His mother had taught him how to use it, along with every other weapon under the sun. "I know enough to save my life and that's it. I don't believe I'll ever be in the ranks of you, Kili, or Legolas."

Bard laughed. "Don't sound sure of that. Maybe if you practice you can rise above your current rank and join us."

"I don't think so."

"Then what do you specialize in?"

"You'll laugh at me."

"I would never do such a thing!"

"Small knives, I specialize in small knives." That had been his mother's favorite type of weapon because even hobbits could easily use them. They were very close range, but his mother was quite skilled with using them. Bilbo had learned how to use them as well. "I know, I know, they are not very dwarvish."

"I could care less if they're dwarvish! You're the greatest dwarf I've ever met."

"Why thank you."

"No, you have earned that compliment." Bard took Bilbo's hand and shook it. "I should probably be going now. Thank you for chatting with me."

"You're welcome."

"It was quite a pleasure. Now I must be off to see my people. I'll tell you if your gardening tips worked once I come back for the next meeting."

"I'll be waiting to see you there."

"The same can be said about me. Goodbye again, Bilbo."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin takes Bilbo to his personal treasury.

Thorin took Bilbo to the king's treasury the next day. He certainly loved having his own personal treasury, and it was hard to keep himself from not staying in there all day. It was filled with gold and jewels, all deeply piled together, and every piece glittered in the torchlight. The sight was certainly tantalizing to the dwarf king's eyes.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Thorin asked, glad that it was finally his, all his.

"Yes," Bilbo replied halfheartedly.

Thorin snapped out of it at his lack of emotion. "Admiring it was not actually why I brought you here." He was suddenly embarrassed at having made a fool of himself in front of his own servant.

Bilbo simply nodded his head and clasped his hands together while he waited for Thorin to continue.

Thorin bent down and began to dig through the gold. His eyes looked over everything, and he had to remind himself every three seconds that he was here for his servant, not himself. He couldn't decide what was fitting enough to give to Bilbo, however. He'd come here in hopes that if he gave him something then his servant would feel appreciated.

For a moment he wondered why he cared, then decided it was because he didn't like the fearful look he'd seen on Bilbo's face whenever he thought Thorin was angry at him. Did he honestly think Thorin was going to kill his mother? Even he had admitted that she was dead, and yet he acted as though there were still hobbits that Thorin could kill. From what Thorin could piece together of what little Bilbo had said about his family was that his father died in an accident shortly after his birth, his mother had raised him alone, he had no siblings (which was incredibly uncommon for hobbits but rather common for dwarves save a few luckier mothers), he'd never married, and the only family he'd had were distant cousins. Why would Thorin want to kill the ancestors of his distant cousins? They wouldn't drive in a point like killing his mother would.

Aha, Thorin thought, then held the necklace up to the light. It glimmered gold, with small blue sapphires embedded in it, with one large sapphire in the middle. He walked over to Bilbo and gently put it around his neck. It fit him perfectly.

"Thank you," Bilbo said, though Thorin couldn't tell what exactly Bilbo thought. He could not care at all, could love it, or could hate it, but the look in his eyes and the shape of his face either held all those emotions or none of them, and he couldn't tell which.

"Do you like it?" Thorin asked. "It's actually dwarf custom to give something of value to highly thought of servants."

Bilbo smiled. It was strange, slightly lopsided, and his face seemed unaccustomed to doing it, but it was a smile.

"Anything else you'd like?" Thorin asked, his eyes looking over the gold. "Take anything you'd like." He reached down and grabbed a few gold coins for himself.

Bilbo reached down and grabbed one half of an emerald earring set, the other piece nowhere in sight. He placed it in his pocket.

"That's all?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? You need not restrain yourself."

"No, I am perfectly content with everything I have already been given."

"I don't believe you."

Bilbo's lower lip quivered, and his hands began to shake. "Why, master?"

"How could a thief not be filling his pockets?"

"I told you, my mother and I kept almost nothing we stole. We'd take it and sell it and use the money to buy food for the hungry. The thrill of stealing was all the payment we ever needed, and I could not get that feeling here."

"Would you steal from me?" Thorin pointed directly at him. "Are you completely sure that you couldn't get this so called 'thrill' here? You're standing on gold for Mahal's sake!"

"I serve you, so of course I'd never steal from you!"

"And how should I know that you aren't lying to me, halfling?"

"Because what good would it do? I'm still cursed to that fucking stone for all eternity whether I want to be or not! I could rob you of everything in Erebor and it wouldn't do shit!" Bilbo bit his lip, and it was so hard that were he not a stone spirit, it would have bled. "You're acting just like Thror! There's the same look in your eyes as his when you look at gold! Thorin, you're looking at it like you would a dwarf, a de-dwarf you find sexually appealing." Thorin watched him turn red.

He snapped to his senses. "Oh Mahal," he muttered. "No, no, no! The gold sickness is starting." He looked straight at Bilbo. "We're leaving."

Ten minutes later, the two were back in Thorin's chambers. He sat in his chair. "Massage me, halfling."

Bilbo came up and began to, his fingers and hands moving with precision.

"My grandfather nearly died because of it," he said. "I thought I could control it. If I end up like him, and like my great grandfather, or my great great grandfather, or any member of the Durin line then I'm doomed. If I succumb to the gold sickness then I don't know what will happen to Erebor. I don't even know if I'll be able to recover from it once it starts." His voice was now barely above a whisper. "Or maybe it's already started."

Bilbo continued to massage him, unspeaking.

"How did you never become obsessed with the things you stole?"

"Because I knew if I kept it for myself others would go hungry. My family was actually incredibly wealthy, and we had no use for excess wealth."

"I don't understand. I'm probably wealthier than your family ever was and yet I can't get enough of what I have."

"That might just be because of your race," Bilbo said, "but I cannot be a hundred percent sure. I'm sorry master, but I have no answer for you."

"Thank you for at least trying."

"It is my duty."

"If anything again ever happens, tell me. I'm trusting you."

"Of course."

"You swear?"

"I swear on the Arkenstone."

To think, Thorin said, looking over at it, I should be more obsessed with that then gold and jewels, but I can barely look at it for longer then ten seconds. Maybe it's good that someone is tied to it. At least that helps me.

And Thorin knew he'd need any and as much help as he could possibly get.


	10. Chapter 10

Thorin cleared his throat. "Burglar," he said.

A look of confusion passed over Bilbo's face, but he straightened up. "Yes, master," he said.

"Don't call me that," Thorin said. It wasn't what he'd intended to say, but he knew he'd have to say it sooner or later. He'd tried saying it before but had stopped. "It just feels too formal. Bilbo, please call me Thorin full time now."

"Yes, Thorin." Bilbo put his hands together and squeezed them. "Yes, whatever you'd like."

Thorin cleared his throat a second time. "Now I have a far more important topic to discuss with you. I need you to steal something for me."

"You do?" Bilbo's eyes widened.

"Yes," Thorin said. "I need you to steal Thranduil's elk."

"His elk?"

Thorin flashed Bilbo a grin. "He loves the damned thing. Take it from him and I'll let you take whatever you'd like from my treasury. Many thieves have tried before and failed to do this."

"I'll do it and I'll succeed, mas, I mean Thorin. May I just ask one question?"

"Yes."

"Why his elk? Why not some of his riches, fine weapons, or the little gold he has? Elks are easy to replace. All he'd have to do was get another captured inside of his realm."

"I just want to see the look on his face."

"What if you aren't there to see it?"

"Who do you think will be accompanying you to Mirkwood?"

"Oh."

"Why were you asking those questions anyway? Do you doubt me?"

"Of course not, but I need to make sure your mind is clear."

Thorin smirked. "You serve well, halfling." He grabbed the Arkenstone and held it to his chest. "All I have to do is put this in a bag and you'll be inside without anyone knowing."

"Won't it be suspicious if you're in Mirkwood?"

"No. Thranduil was busy being his usual self when he said there should be a meeting in Mirkwood 'to be fair'." Thorin laughed. "Bard and Dain will be accompanying us, though neither will know. I'm sure Bard will ask for you, but I'll claim you need to watch over the miners while I'm gone."

Bilbo nodded.

"And do not do anything to alert your presence."

"I would never."

"Good. Now, I have something for you to do immediately."

"What?"

"To prove your skills as a burglar, you are to steal one item from each member of my company. From Bofur you are to get his hat, from Bombur his stew spoon, from Bifur his axe, and not the one from his head, from Dwalin his axe as well, from Balin his large red book inside his room, from Dori his cloak, from Nori his wallet, from Ori his knitting supplies, from Oin his eat trumpet, from Gloin the picture he has of his wife and son, from Fili the drawings Ori gave him, and from his brother, Kili, his bow. Do you understand?"

"Of course."

"Then get moving. You must have them by tomorrow or else."

 

Bofur's hat was actually quite easy to get, even if it supposedly never left the toymaker's head. All he had to do was follow him around all day, let him suddenly be surrounded by curious children who recognized him, then quickly grab the hat while the miner's attention was focused on the children. The hat had flown off of his head and landed a few feet away on the ground, and Bilbo had grabbed it and ran. The children didn't notice, and Bofur was too busy answering their questions.

Bombur was too busy making a cake to notice another "chef" grabhis wooden stew spoon.

Bifur was taking a nap, and Bilbo grabbed the axe and got out as fast as he possibly could lest he wake the dwarf. All the while he made not a sound.

Dwalin's axe was harder to get. When he finally placed it down, Bilbo threw a stone in the corner of the room that caused him to go investigate it. Bilbo grabbed the axe, then jumped onto the ceiling and held a torch, hoping Dwalin didn't look up. He didn't, and Bilbo was glad he could jump so high without making a noise.

Bilbo just snuck in Balin's room (which was next door to Dwalin's), grabbed it, then placed a similar book to replace it on his dresser. If he didn't look to closely he'd be none the wiser that his precious book was gone.

Dori was getting ready to take a bath (Bilbo made sure to avert his eyes), then grabbed his cloak once he was in the bathroom. Bilbo truly hoped that Thorin would never require him to do this task again.

Nori was supposedly a master pickpocket. If Nori was a master, then Bilbo was a deity. He just wished he could see Nori's face when he discovered his wallet and all the gold coins in it gone. He had to keep himself from chuckling.

Bilbo knocked over a shelf of books, ran and hid, them grabbed Ori's knitting supplies while he was busy cleaning up. He did feel guilty for that.

Oin didn't like to use his ear trumpet because it reminded him that his hearing was shit. Bilbo guessed that Oin didn't even know it was gone.

Gloin was too busy spending time with his wife and son to notice the drawing of his wife and son was gone.

Fili clearly cared deeply for the drawings Ori made him, so Bilbo took them with care, making sure to not get them dirty or crumbled.

Kili's bow was easily the hardest thing to get. It was practically attached to his hand. Bilbo ended up stealing cupcakes from Bombur (which was actually rather hard, the man really did guard his food), and when the boys saw a plate of cupcakes innocently sitting out, they dropped their things and began to stuff their faces. Thankfully the cupcakes weren't poisoned or the foolish boys would be dead. He hoped they'd grow some brains before either inherited the throne. Bilbo grabbed the bow along with all of Kili's arrows and vanished into the shadows like his mother had taught him.

When he showed everything to Thorin, his jaw dropped. "It didn't even take you four hours to get all of this!"

Bilbo laughed. "Thorin, I did nearly steal the Arkenstone."

Thorin smiled. "And I have no doubt that you can take Thranduil's elk. And you know what? Feel free to take whatever else you'd like from Thranduil. It's fine by me if you leave the damned elf penniless!" He came up and wrapped an arm around Bilbo's shoulder. "He won't even know what hit him. Now I really can't wait to see the look on his face."

Bilbo smiled again, though like all his smiles, it was pretty lacking.

Thorin didn't mind. "Did you get a thrill from it?"

"Yes, there's no way to deny it."

"Did you miss that feeling?"

"Greatly."

"I promise that soon you'll feel it again."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin make their mad dash getaway on Thranduil's elk.

In truth, Mirkwood wasn't really that mirky. It was mostly false advertisement and words that could never leave a language. It had been years since the Ring's demise, but Sauron had at least left the forest in some gloom. According to legend, spiders once roamed the land, but now there were none. Creatures still wondered through it, and Bilbo noticed a few. They were all the basic woodland type-deer, rabbits, squirrels, birds, chipmunks.

"Are we far enough away yet?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes," Thorin said. "You may drop off the elk here." Thorin got off, then helped pull Bilbo off. If it weren't for him he probably would've fallen face first into the dirt. Deity of thieves or not, Bilbo was still really, really tiny, even if he was of rather good height by hobbit standards. The elk was certainly sized for Thranduil, who towered over Thorin. It had been years since Bilbo had compared his height to the elf king, but he remembered asking his mother if he was really that short.

She had smirked and looked down at him. "So you're wishing you inherited my height now?" She laughed. "You're just a tiny little runt." She joked.

The animal seemed calm, not caring that it had two new masters on it. It leaned down and began to eat grass, then chewed it. Had Thranduil noticed that it was gone yet?

"So we're just leaving it here?" Bilbo asked, turning his head to the right to look at the animal.

"No," Thorin said. "If we walk it just a little more, we'll reach the enchanted river. With our combined strengths, we can push it into the river."

"You want to drown his elk?"

"And make it a hassle for it to find. One, or hopefully more, of his men, will probably get stuck in the river and be asleep for a while." He chuckled. "I remember when Bombur fell in this very same river."

The two gently walked the animal to the river, petting and complimenting it every few minutes. It walked at a moderate pace, but slowly went faster the longer it was praised. When the two reached the river's edge, they made one hard pull and dropped it into the river. They didn't stay back to watch it suffer, just headed back to Erebor. Bilbo grabbed Thorin's hand and gently pulled him into the shadows. His hand was large and covered in sweat, though Bilbo didn't know if it was because of fear or heat.

"So it's over?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes," Thorin said. "We stole the damned elk."

The two went on, found Thorin's pony, and rode away. All the way there, Bilbo listened to Thorin go on and on about how shocked Thranduil would be, who he'd possibly blame it on, and how the "stupid treeshagger" deserved it.

 

"And Thranduil doesn't suspect a thing?" Bilbo asked.

"Not that I know of." Thorin laughed, the sound echoing across the room. Everyone else sat around them in total, completely amazed silence. They seemed afraid to speak lest it ruin the moment. Bilbo knew it must be shocking if it meant the dwarves would shut up.

"I remember his elk," Kili said, breaking the silence. "What an ugly old thing it was. It was so big and mean and smelled of, well, uh, elk shit." Bilbo could tell that Kili had quite a way with words.

"And he acted as though the thing mattered," Fili said. "I even heard if he were to suddenly die that his son would find it listed for him on Thranduil's will! Now wouldn't that be a shitty thing to inherit? Goodbye son, have fun dealing with my elk!"

"Elks are actually remarkable creatures," Ori said.

"No one asked for your input, Ori." Kili said.

"Besides, Thranduil's elk is anything bit remarkable." Fili said. "Thranduil sits on it!"

That erupted cheers from the dwarves, though Bilbo couldn't understand the joke.

Dwalin was wiping tears from his eyes. "And to think that it was all to make Thranduil look like an idiot."

"I think he does that himself," Bilbo said. "We were just letting it show."

Everyone really laughed at that. Thorin leaned over and whispered, "Good one. You never told me you had a sense of humor up there in that skull of yours."

Bilbo gave him a weak smile (it probably looked like a grimace).

And then they brought out the alcohol. Bilbo politely refused whatever the kitchen workers offered. The dwarves began to drink, and once they started they didn't stop. Their conversation really went downhill, and Bilbo just waited for things to wrap up. Thorin wasn't drinking nearly as much as the others, but Bilbo knew he'd need help from someone with a clear head.

When that finished, Bilbo took Thorin to his room. He laid him in bed, then began to return to the Arkenstone.

"Stop," Thorin said.

Bilbo did. He felt a jolt go through him-he was unused to stopping himself from returning. This was actually the first time he'd ever done it. He quickly brought himself back.

"Come here," he slurred. He patted the empty part of his bed next to him. "It's your duty." The words all jumbled together the way Thorin said it, and it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended.

Bilbo quietly got in bed and laid next to him. "What would you like?" He didn't try to stopThorin. This didn't have to do with gold, so he had no reason to stop him.

Thorin wrapped a tight arm around Bilbo's waist and pulled him in closer. He began to cover him in wet, sloppy kisses. His breath smelled of alcohol, and was very hot.

Bilbo didn't move an inch. When Thorin began running his hands through his hair or down his back, he just let it happen. He didn't want this to be happening, but this was part of his job.

This is what I agreed to when I let Mother go free, he thought. But the thought brought no comfort to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I may have slipped in some fanservice. I promise that this will help make Bilbo and Thorin's relationship progress.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil mourns the death of his elk.
> 
> Anyway, it has come to my attention that after the fan service, people thought Bilbo and Thorin had sex. No, they did not, just did a heavy makeout session. I would never advocate rape.

"Ada," Legolas said, watching his father weep in his chambers. "Ada, everything will be okay. Why don't you calm down and I'll get the two of us some nice cups of steaming hot tea? Doesn't that sound good, Ada?"

"Legolas!" Thranduil screamed, more tears falling down his face. "Leave me alone to mourn in peace!"

"Ada!" Legolas said. "It was just an elk."

Thranduil scowled, shooting daggers at his own flesh and blood. Legolas flinched, realizing he only stared that way at dwarves. His father was completely sober, so why was he acting this way? It was just an elk, no matter how long his father had owned it.

"We'll put it's antlers on your throne like we did with the elks of the past." Legolas hoped it would be good to keep up the tradition. Even his earliest memory involved elks (his father really did have quite an obsession with them), his father giving him a stuffed elk as a birthday present. To this day he still had it, though it was old and floppy from years of use. The elf prince was just thankful that it was still held together with more than just a few strings and hope.

"No!" Thranduil's voice, Legolas guessed, could probably be heard all the way to the Undying Lands. He was surprised he hadn't lost his hearing. "My poor, poor elk. I knew it would die someday, but not by drowning. I thought, hoped with all my old heart, that he would die peacefully of old age or choke on grass or something, but he drowned in the enchanted river!" Thranduil wiped some of the tears away from his red eyes. "It fucking drowned!"

"Ada," Legolas said again, then walked over and embraced his father. "Ada, I will personally get a new elk for you, the very best elk to ever exist."

Instead of comforting him like Legolas hoped it would, it just made him weep even harder. "But then when it dies no other elk will ever be as good as that one! I'll spend the rest of eternity with elks that will never, ever compare to it!" He cried into his son's shoulders. "That elk was my only true friend!"

"Ada, Tauriel is your friend!"

"No she's not! She just works for me to get a paycheck!"

"I'm your friend!"

"No you aren't! We're just biologically connected and you're the heir to my kingdom!"

"Bard," Legolas said weakly, grasping at straws. He was running out of names and fast.

"That bowman? No, of course not! He's in line with those stupid dwarves! And did you see how he looked at that one who said those gardening tips? I'm surprised he didn't start the official courtship then and there! So don't think he'd want to take you as a bowman lover, because his sights are only set on that ugly beardless dwarf!"

"Father, you need to sit down." He was able to get his father to sit down on the rug by the barely burning fire. Legolas reminded himself to warm up the fire more. He couldn't have his father cold, not now. "I know a bunch of thoughts are going through your head right now, but I have no interests in Bard in that way!"

"Oh good," Thranduil said. "You still have some smarts in you. You must get it from your father." He chuckled.

Legolas breathed a sigh of relief. At least now his father was recovering, in the weird way his father recovered.

Thranduil wiped away another tear. "Legolas, who do you think did that? My elk was far too smart to fall into a river and loved me far too much to just jump in."

"Ada, I don't know, and maybe no one did do it."

"My elk would never, ever do that!"

"Ada, your elk loved you. Maybe it got scared by something and fell in the river. Will you kill all the beasts of Greenwood in your grief fueled rage?"

Thranduil separated himself from Legolas. "Maybe it was Thorin Oakenshield, the damn bastard."

"Father, that's ridiculous! I won't say he doesn't hate you, because he obviously does, but why your elk? Why not your money, jewels, or gold?"

Thranduil was not in the mood to listen to reason. "That dwarf will pay!" He looked his son dead in the eyes. "If he will take my precious elk, then I will take his most precious Arkenstone and keep it for myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I did just write an entire fucking chapter about Thranduil crying over an elk.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo deal with what happened.

When Thorin woke up, Bilbo was laying beside him on his bed, curled up into a ball. His eyes were staring up expectantly at him, waiting for whatever he would say. Thorin rubbed his forehead, wondering what his halfling servant was doing in his bed.

And then he remembered.

Oh, Thorin thought. That wasn't your smartest move ever, Thorin Oakenshield.

Bilbo didn't show any emotion on his face. If he resented Thorin for what happened, he certainly didn't show it. He just lay still, waiting for whatever was commanded of him to do next.

"Bilbo," Thorin said. "Good morning."

You sound like a fucking idiot! Thorin thought. 

"Bilbo, do you need anything?" Thorin attempted to smile.

"No," Bilbo said timidly. "And I should be the one asking you that, since I'm your servant and all. Is it alright if I get up?"

"Yes," Thorin said. He thought over the night before, over the hobbit's lips over his, of the warmth of his body. The thief had seemed surprised in the beginning, but Thorin was just acting on lustful, purely lustful feelings he'd felt for a while. "Go take a bath. Do whatever you please today and I'll see you tonight."

"What?" The halfling tensed.

"You earned a day off." Thorin felt guilty. "Please enjoy it."

Bilbo nodded. "Of course, Thorin."

Thorin nearly vomited at the thought that he might have done more. That would have been wrong to his servant.

 

Bilbo had never done anything of the sort before the incident. His life had been too filled with stealing precious objects for Bilbo to have time to get into a relationship with anyone. He probably would've died a virgin. He guessed the only reason his mother even married was to have him.

It felt strange, realizing that everything had happened with Thorin and not a hobbit. There had certainly been hobbits of all genders that he'd found attractive, but he had never actually done more than give a few seconds look. It hadn't been his favorite thing ever, but he'd said he'd do it before. Besides, he'd guessed eventually he'd do something of the sort. At least it was Thorin, who Bilbo considered attractive (though he didn't show it or let it get in the way of his work), and not say, Thror. The idea disgusted Bilbo to no end. If he could still vomit, he would have.

He spent his free day reading, going to the library every few hours to get a new book from Ori. Besides stealing, it had been his favorite pastime years ago, before what happened. Sometimes Smaug had even been kind enough to let him read while he slept away in his bed of gold and jewels.

Every once in a while Bilbo would look up at the stone and stare at it, wondering how he should suffer so long and so hard over such a small thing. And to think that it was an actual part of him now! It was an all too common thought to him now.

He did not think about the night before more than was absolutely needed. Still, it clung to his thoughts and he was constantly reminded of it. He felt ashamed in some ways, but at least he'd prepared for it if, or more likely when, it happened again. The alcohol would surely get to him again, and Bilbo could not see him going completely sober. It was like thinking Thorin would marry off one of his nephews with an elf: Completely impossible.

"How was your day?" Thorin asked.

"Oh, well um, it was good, yes, very good." Bilbo tried to smile at Thorin again. "I enjoyed it. Thank you very much. You are very kind to me."

"I would actually like to apologize for my actions yesterday. It was wrong of me to have you do that."

Bilbo said nothing. What was the right thing to say to that, anyway?

 

Thranduil prepared his items. 

"Ada, you're just going to go all by yourself, without even a guard?" Legolas looked at him with a mix of concern and anger on his face.

"I can take care of myself perfectly fine," Thranduil said.

Legolas threw his arms in the air. "So you expect to just walk into Erebor and steal the Arkenstone. Dwarves will try to fucking kill you! Ada, you can't do this!"

"I am your father and you will listen to me! Believe it or not, but I know how to think. Looking back, do you remember those two halfling thieves?"

Legolas thought for a moment, clearly confused. "What do Belladonna and Bilbo have to do with any of this? Surely they must be dead by now."

Thranduil shook his head slowly from side to side. "Was he not a great enough thief to steal more life? Death is not easy to rob unless you are considered deities among other thieves."

"Ada, what in Melkor are you saying?"

"That beardless dwarf," Thranduil said, "is Bilbo. I will interrogate him and take the Arkenstone as he tries to explain himself." He smirked. "You may think me crazy, but I am most surely not. You see, Legolas, one day you will think like me. And some day, whenever that comes, you will realize just how right I always was. But you will not listen now, so it is best I be off. Good luck running Greenwood while I am gone."

He left his son speechless and alone, the only thing he able to do then process the words he'd been told to see if they were true, and true they were.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil being Thranduil.

Thranduil walked with a determined grace, his feet not making a sound without even the slightest effort.  It was only when he wanted his footsteps to be heard did he make a sound, and he made them louder, which drew all the more attention to him. Jealousy shot through Bilbo, something he hadn't felt in a long time. He could make no sound as he walked but there was no grace to him. He simply moved, something every thief should do (except for when it is necessary to stop).

"Thranduil," Thorin said, "why are you here in Erebor? And why in my personal chambers of all places?"

Thranduil raised his slender, pale arm and pointed it at Bilbo. He smirked, a knowing look in his eyes. "I know who your 'dwarf' really is. Call him 'dwarf' all you like, but I'd expect no one else to steal more days into their life." Thranduil smiled, showing off his teeth like a predator. "Tell me, mister Baggins, how do you live to this very day? Should your body not have rotted away years ago? Halfling's are not known for having such great lifespans."

Bilbo bit his lip, desperately looking over to Thorin. What was he supposed to say? How could he even really deny it? If anyone could recognize him, it was those who had seen him before, back when he'd been free.

Thorin slowly stepped towards the Arkenstone, then grabbed it and clutched it in his hands.

Thranduil raised a light yellow eyebrow, then looked Bilbo in the eyes. "Does the Arkenstone have anything to do with this? I must say, you should have been able to steal it by now. Why get dragged into stuffy politics? And why associate yourself with a man who killed an elk in cold blood?"

The two remained silent. Bilbo was scared and Thorin was stone-faced.

"They say if you kill an animal, in this case an elf, in cold blood than you will later on do the same to another. Do you not fear that he'll kill you as well? Unless you just wanted to take off with the stone and had to get close to him to take it, then it is obvious you are in the same league."

If Bilbo had a heart, it would be beating against his chest right now at a speed to rival the fastest horse.

"And my question to you both," Thranduil said, "is why? I'm more curious about you however, Thorin Oakenshield. I can see why the thief came to Erebor. It is filled with great riches. But how could you not see past his disguise?"

Thorin scowled.

"Or is he staying with you? Do you know of his true race?"

And Thorin finally spoke. "Of course I know of the halfling's race."

Thranduil smiled. "Then does he know of the winter of only a few years ago? To think, all those orcs and warts nearly destroying a race, but surely crushing their homeland."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Thranduil sighed, shaking his head lightly from side to side. "You really have disconnected from your race, haven't you, thief? Only a few short winters ago your precious Shire was invaded and ripped apart. The few who survived now live scattered, and many more die now in their nomadic lifestyles. It seems they can't adjust to this change. A shame. If only you could save them from death, steal them from its claws, grasped around their necks." He smiled. "And that is all I came to tell you. I see that you will not answer my questions, so there is no use sticking around here. I only have so much time in this day, and it should not all be wasted on those who won't simply open their mouths." He nodded at Bilbo. "Do enjoy your life, halfling." He turned to Thorin, his eyebrows turned down to glare. "And do enjoy your day, Thorin Oakenshield. I wish your kingdom well. Now if you'll be so kind as to excuse me, I will leave. There is business I must attend to with farmers in Dale."

 

"My people are dead," Bilbo stated. "My people are dying."

"He must have been lying," Thorin said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "How could orcs kill your people when you-"

"My mother and I are an exeption of this rule. Hobbits are well known for being peaceful. The orcs and warts would have ended them!"

"He must have done it to scare you!"

"Thorin, we'd had orcs and wargs come to our Shire before! It was well recorded multiple times." Bilbo clenched his fists together tightly, turning them white as snow. "I can relate to you now, Thorin Oakenshield. He knew of what happened but didn't help and now even more hobbits will die. You could say history repeated itself, and once again he didn't help those in need." He laughed, a deep, throaty, and unnatural sound. "If you asked, I'd be happy to kill him for you. I have always wanted to feel the thrill of stealing someone's very life from them. Emeralds, gold, diamonds, and rubies can be taken back, but a life cannot. I'll just wait for your answer."

 

"Ada," Legolas said, "what are you doing back here without the Arkenstone?"

His father laughed. "It appeared I did not even need it. Where did I get so much good luck from?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoy writing sadistic!Thranduil way too much.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter where both characters think.

He didn't know why he cared. Maybe it was because of all he'd done for him, or because he'd seen so much suffering that he couldn't bear to see it any longer. Or perhaps it had to do with the fact that his grandfather had done this to him for all eternity. Bilbo's eyes were the same color as the Arkenstone, and in them held years of pain. By now had he not served his sentence? Was eternity really a fair punishment? And what did that say about his grandfather? He knew he wasn't perfect, but could he truly have done that?

He had to; Bilbo's pain was too real to have been faked, and his thieving skills were one hundred percent genuine.

He wanted to free the hobbit of his misery, hand him the Arkenstone and tell him that he was his own master, that the only person who should give him commands was him.

Thorin desperately wanted to comfort him, but Bilbo would tell him that it wasn't necessary.

"If this hadn't happened then I would have died years ago as mortals do. Even if I were miraculously still alive, I'd be too old to fight off orcs and wargs. I'd more likely than not be just another one of the dead, sad as it is." He sighed. "Besides, I alone could not save all my people. It was good while it lasted, but. . . But mortals die. I know that now. Why do I even bother trying to ignore it? Not everyone has life eternal."

"Bilbo, I understand what it's like to lose so many of your people to a monster, or in your case monsters. I am sorry."

Bilbo just looked at him sadly. "You don't have to be. You aren't required to feel bad for me, Thorin. I am meant to serve you, not the other way."

Thorin wrapped an arm gently around his waist. "Allow me to pity you, halfling. I see pain in your eyes."

And Bilbo did. He sat and listened to Thorin discuss how he felt when the mountain was lost, continued listening when Thorin spoke of years as a traveling smith, hungry and alone. He told him tales of wanting and vowing for revenge, for preparing. For meeting a wizard and gathering twelve other dwarves and leading them on what some would call a quest to their graves. But on they went, and reclaim Erebor they did. It was hard, and at times he'd even thought of giving up, but he continued on, knowing it was the right thing to do for his people.

"I needed to give them back their home," Thorin said. "It was important that they not wonder, hungry many days."

Bilbo sat in silence, watching Thorin move his finger along his soft hand as if he were drawing a picture. "I would have helped you after that, you know. My mother and I probably couldn't have stolen back Erebor, but your people could have done better. Maybe things wouldn't have been so bad for you and your people."

Thorin gently touched his shoulder. "You can't blame yourself for not being able to help us."

Bilbo sighed, then reached up his hand to wipe a tear, as if out of habit. He stopped when he realized what was wrong. "No, it seems that I cannot." He frowned. "Hobbits die with time, and there is nothing that I can ever do to change that."

Thorin wants to free him, he really does, but he can't. Bilbo is the only one truly honest with him, and he fears the only one able to save him from his gold sickness. He needs that help desperately. And Thorin knows that it's selfish to keep Bilbo, but he needs the halfling with him. Thorin reminds himself that it is for the best.

At least it's for the best for him.

 

Bilbo does not know what to think.

All he knows is that he must face change, because he cannot stop it. He must accept it if he is to come to terms with his identity.

That is just how things are, and that is one change that Bilbo cannot make.

Change, Bilbo thought bitterly. What a terrible word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Bilbo were really Fi in this fic then he'd have no arms. Hey, I'm allowed artistic liberties.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is dense about relationships.

"How often did you steal when you were alive?" Thorin asked him one day. It had been months since Thranduil's visit, and his servant had calmed down back and returned to his normal self. By that, Bilbo would serve Thorin, and talk to him every once in a while. It was never much of a conversation, but at least it got the hobbit speaking. After years of being almost completely silent, some of his social skills were lacking. He could make conversation, but it became obvious soon that he was running out of words.

"Not every day," he said. "I liked to call those the boring days. Looking back, all life was to me was stealing. I loved that, and look where it got me."

Thorin paused, trying to think of what to say next. "Would you like today to not be a boring day?"

Bilbo looked at him quizzically. "There is something for me to steal?"

"Yes," Thorin said. "I need you to go and to get me all of the jewels I'll need to wear for tomorrow's holiday. You remember me speaking Huelstone, don't you?"

Bilbo nodded. "You mean the newly commemorated holiday of the celebration of Erebor's reclamation?"

Thorin nodded. "Get some jewels for me to wear and a set of golden armor. While you're in there, grab what you need yourself for tomorrow's holiday. Bard is coming with a few men from Lake Town, and I advise you to look your best for him."

Bilbo looked confused.

"He likes you," Thorin said. "I advise you to look your best when you see him."

Bilbo did not seem to get what he was hinting at. He just nodded and asked how many jewels he'd need to bring back, and Thorin gave a rough estimate.

Thankfully, he did not bring up Thorin's gold sickness. He just knew.

“I will be back soon,” Bilbo said, then left.

 

He grabbed golden bracelets, jewels of every size and color, and a golden armor set. Bilbo grabbed extra items in case they were needed, then put them in the small messenger bag he now carried everywhere. The added items made it quite heavy, but he carried it like any other item. If he showed that he couldn’t carry it then Thorin would be ashamed.

“Bard likes you,” Thorin had said. The question was, why? There really wasn’t much to him to like. Still, if someone found a liking to him than that was good, wasn’t it?

Bilbo brought the jewels back to his master, then handed over more than half of them to him.

Thorin raised a dark eyebrow. “Don’t you think you’ll need more?”

“No.”

“Get more,” Thorin said. “You will be presenting yourself as a dwarf of high standing.”

Bilbo nodded, wondering why he suddenly seemed angry. He walked back to Thorin’s treasury, filled his bag seventy-five percent full, then came back. He gave his master a look that begged for his approval.

“That’s good,” Thorin said. “Now why don’t you get ready while I attend to one last thing? I promise you that you’ll enjoy this holiday. To think, it’s been nearly a year since I met you.”

Bilbo nodded. “Time,” he said, “it is strange, isn’t it? But I do not doubt your words.” His heart was hardly in his words however.

Thorin left, leaving Bilbo alone to prepare. He went into Thorin’s bathroom where there was a mirror, his robe for tomorrow beside him. By now he had grown accustomed to wearing dwarven clothing, and it almost looked as though it was made for him. Maybe his disguise really was working.

Bilbo began to work jewels onto him as he had seen dwarves do, even putting a few inside his hair. It looked strange on him, but he could say that by dwarf standards he would at least get a few compliments.

Bilbo felt fake. His entire life now was fake, but he kept doing this. It was all he had left to do.

A whole year, Bilbo thought. It’s been almost a whole year since I met Thorin. Bilbo thought back to what he knew about dwarf lifespans. How many more years would he be spending with him? How much longer until Fili or Kili inherited him? How much longer until their children did, and their children, and their children, and their children? How much longer until Thorin was forgotten or made only as a legend told to children? Would Bilbo still be there?

He shook his head, telling himself not to think about that.

“Negative thoughts will get you nowhere,” his mother had always said.

When Thorin came back, hours later, Bilbo did not question why he was gone so long. He sounded as though he’d only be gone a half an hour, but Bilbo could not just expect him to forget about his duties.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, looking tired and red-eyed. “Are you going to speak with Bard tomorrow?”

“Probably yes,” Bilbo said. “Why?”

“I want you to stop any of his advances,” Thorin said. He leaned in and whispered to the hobbit, “He’ll try and you have to stop him.”

“Advances?”

Thorin laughed. “You’re dense, Halfling. Have you even been fucked?” If Bilbo’s nose could work, he was sure there would be alcohol on his breath.

“No,” Bilbo said, knowing drunk or not that he couldn’t not answer his master.

“Want to be?”

It was usually Bilbo’s job to tell him yes even when he didn’t want to, but he said no. He needed to be honest for once. “Thorin,” Bilbo said, “please stop.”

Thorin gently touched the top of his head, running his finger over Bilbo’s face, then up to his hair. He gently tugged on one of the jewels. “When Bard tries to do anything with you tomorrow, tell him no.”

Bilbo couldn’t tell him to stop because there was no gold sickness in his eyes. He may have been drunk, but in his eyes Bilbo could see that he understood part of what he was saying, and some part of him continued slurring out words.

“So tell him no!” Thorin said. “You’re mine!” He suddenly leaned down and heaved. Bilbo reached down, grabbed his hair, and shook his head when he realized he’d need to change his robe.

Well, once Thorin’s in bed, Bilbo thought, I can get a bath. After that I’ll have all night to change.

“You’ll tell him no, right?” Thorin asked as Bilbo helped clean him up.

“Of course, Thorin,” Bilbo said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to remind you all that what Thorin does isn't healthy.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the future dragon slayer Bain.
> 
> Blah blah blah I just got a copy of Skyrim and all I can think is "DRAGONS".

Bilbo tried to stay away from the more drunken celebrators, and though he didn’t stand next to Thorin, he did keep an eye on him. At his suggestion, he only drank one mug of ale and nothing else. Bilbo tried to put himself into a partying mood, hobbits were known for their parties, but right now he could have cared less. He was counting down the seconds until it was over for another year.

Food simmered as it was cooked, many already eating and waiting for more to come. A few men had come, and they were all eating. Bilbo hadn’t seen Bard, so he assumed that perhaps Thorin had been wrong.

The two hadn’t discussed what he’d said before. Thorin had simply gotten up, called Bilbo out of the Arkenstone, complimented him on his appearance, thanked him for helping him the night before, and told him that they would be leaving soon. Bilbo almost asked him about what happened but stopped himself; Thorin seemed to obviously be ignoring that, and if he wasn’t than Bilbo wouldn’t want to risk it. If he angered Thorin then who knew what he’d do to him. If he was anything like his grandfather when Bilbo accidentally disobeyed him then he’d be a nightmare. Only once had Bilbo had the slightest slip up with Thror, and it had been, well.

No, Bilbo thought. Don’t think about it.

That was when Bilbo felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see none the other than Bard the bowman himself, smiling at him, his bow to his side.

“Bilbo,” he said, “I was hoping to see you.”

“The same,” Bilbo said, “my friend.”

Bard smiled again. “Your tips helped tremendously. I can never thank you enough.”

“You make me sound like a hero.”

“You’re too modest.”

Bilbo tensed, looking over at Thorin, who seemed to be too busy in a conversation of his own to notice Bilbo talking with Bard.

“It’s never a bad thing to be humble.” Bilbo put his hands together. “How have you been since we last saw each other?”

“I’ve been doing well, actually. The harvest has been going strong, which was good. Who knew so much food would be ordered? My people are practically drowning in all the money that was sent for it. Now I can finally see what a dwarf’s appetite really looks like.” He chuckled.

“You think this is bad? I’ve seen them eat far more.”

“And I certainly believe you!” A young boy suddenly walked up to Bard and pulled on his sleeve. He pointed the boy towards Bilbo. “This is my young son, Bain. Bain, I know you’ve heard countless words about him, so here’s Bilbo in the flesh and blood.”

Bilbo wanted to laugh. He didn’t even know if he produced blood any more, and his skin, though he was told was soft, had a strange texture to it. Could he really be considered living any longer?

“Hello,” the boy said, looking to be only about six or seven years old. “Father has told me a lot about you.”

“Hello,” Bilbo said, reaching out his hand to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The boy took his hand. “If you’re a dwarf, why you’ve got no beard?”

“Bain!” Bard said. “That was quite rude of you.”

“No, no,” Bilbo said. “I’m quite used to it by now.” It was far too common a question, and by now he was used to hearing it. “Bain, my mother died horribly.” That was hopefully a lie-he hoped his mother had died in peace. But even if she did die in pain, what could he possibly do to have stopped it?

“Oh,” Bain said. “I am sorry, Mister Bilbo. Did your mommy die like mine did?”

Bilbo bit his lip, then looked up at Bard, begging him for what he should answer with.

“Bain,” Bard said, leaning down, “I think we should turn to another topic of conversation. It’s been hard for him to adjust to the loss of his mother.”

He looked up at Bilbo and mouthed, “He doesn’t remember his mother, so he doesn’t know what it was like to lose her.”

“Have you tried any of the mince pies?” Bilbo asked the boy.

He seemed pleased by the change in conversation, then shook his head no. “Are they any good?” He jumped from one foot to the other, excited by the prospect of more food. Already his shirt was covered in food stains, but that was far from out of place. Most dwarves had food covering their clothing, save the rare few who needed to look presentable, though Bilbo guessed by the end of the night even Thorin would have food on his robe.

“They’re delicious,” Bilbo said. “I can’t believe you haven’t had any. Come on, let me help you get some. By the way, have you met Fili and Kili yet.”

“Fili and Kili?” Bain’s blue eyes widened.

“Yes, the dwarf princes. You’ll love them.” The two were supposed to be acting like any good prince should, but they had decided not to. The two were busy eating at a table set up by some of the roasting meat. Bilbo took the boy by the hand and walked him over.

“Who is this?” Kili asked, dark brown sauce staining the sides of his lips.

“Bain, Bard’s son,” Bilbo said. “Would you mind helping him get some mince pies?”

“Not at all.”

“Can I see your bow?” Bain asked Kili.

“Of course!”

“When I grow up I wanna shoot dragons with my bow just like my dad.” 

“You do?”

“Yeah! I’ll be Bain the dragon slayer and all will love me! And I’ll kill every dragon there is!”

“We’ll definitely keep you around then,” Kili said. “We don’t want any more stupid dragons coming and trying to take Erebor from us. One was certainly enough.”

Sue that the boy was in good, though mischievous, hands, Bilbo went back to Bard. Fili seemed to have joined in on the conversation, and the three were blabbering away. A plate of mince pie was set in front of the boy, though he’d hardly taken more than two bites out of it.

Bard smirked. “So you’ve turned dwarf royalty into glorified babysitters now?”

“It’s not that hard once you get to know them.”

Bard chuckled. “How many other tricks do you have up your sleeve?”

“Quite a few.”

Bard smiled. “Then please do remind me to not get on your bad side. Anyway, Bilbo, there has been something that I have been meaning to ask you.”

“Yes?”

That was when Bilbo heard a grunt from behind him. He turned around. “Yes, Thorin?” he asked, trying to look calm. Thorin looked to be bothered, a mix of anger and frustration on his face. “Is there anything that you need?” All the other noise around him faded as he waited for what Thorin would say. He could almost imagine a heart beating against his chest in a wild frenzy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blah blah cliffhanger.
> 
> Blah blah Thorin will probably still be a dick in the next chapter.
> 
> And Bilbo will still be dense.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2

“Yes,” Thorin said. His voice was steady. “There is something that I need from you.” He turned and stared at Bard. “I do hope that I am not intruding on anything.”

Bard rolled his eyes, then leaned one foot against the wall. “I was only going to ask Bilbo if he would like to accompany me to Lake Town.”

Thorin’s gaze hardened. “Why would he need to?”

“I’d like him to check out plant growth for me,” Bard said. “He is quite knowledgeable of it.”

Thorin raised a dark eyebrow. “And that’s all?” His eyes were not bloodshot this time, and he seemed to be standing up straight. Bilbo noted that, thankfully, Thorin was sober.

“Of course,” Bard said. “Why would I need him for anything else?”

Thorin just grunted and turned away, muttering something about other’s businesses, though Bilbo could hardly tell what he was saying. Still, he was sober. He didn’t know what Thorin actually wanted from him, but he wasn’t about to ask, either. It was better this way. He relaxed, then turned back to Bard.

At least there are still some agreeable people in the world left to talk to, Bilbo thought.

“You have to work with that every day?” Bard asked.

“Sadly,” Bilbo admitted. “He’s a handful.”

Bard gave him a sympathetic look. “You just seem to know so much about agriculture. Dwarves so rarely know about that kind of thing.” He sighed, but there was still a small smile on his lips. “You probably get that a lot, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. So what would you like me to help you out with?”

“I just want you to review everything, make sure things are going well. We have so many to feed now! But you can’t stop dwarves from coming here, can you? And you can’t stop Lake Town families from breeding like rabbits!” He laughed. “I don’t understand how they do that; Bain is enough of a handful for me.”

Just imagine seeing hobbit families, Bilbo thought, thinking back to his distant cousins who had over fifteen children. Bard would probably drop dead at the sight! But he can’t, Bilbo thought, not any longer, not if Thranduil’s words are true. He almost imagined tears forming at his eyes.

“Of course I’d be happy to come,” Bilbo said. “It would be no problem at all to me.”

Bard breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good for me. Who knew dealing with all the people of Lake Town could be so hard?” He chuckled.

“Do you like being in your position?” Bilbo didn’t know what made him ask the question, but he asked it anyway.

“No, I absolutely did not. I thought my life would just consist of me trying to raise my son and get him food.”

“Was life hard for you, before the whole Smaug ordeal?”

“Very. But I’ve helped my son before, and I’ll keep doing it. He needs someone for him.” The two watched Bain play with Fili and Kili. Fili appeared to be pretending to be a dragon, and Bain and Kili were trying to kill him. Bain was clearly the leader and Kili the sidekick. Both had their bows out, but thankfully no arrows were fired. Celebrating the dragon’s death was good, but reenacting his death was not. Bilbo knew Thorin wouldn’t be pleased if his heir suddenly got an injury, and certainly not from playing with a human.

“Bain really admires you,” Bilbo said.

Bard shook his head, but he smiled none the less. “You give me too much credit. I’m scared I’ll end up raising him thinking he should just run off and slay every dragon in sight. He won’t believe me when he says I got lucky on the Smaug shot.”

You did get lucky, Bilbo thought. He’d hated Smaug, and he was very glad that his killer stood before him at this very moment.

“And to be honest, I am scared that he will do that. I don’t want my son to just fight foolishly.” He sighed. “I used to be nothing more than a lowly bowman who would have only lived long enough to serve the former ruler of Lake Town. I was nearly as lowly as the dirt on your boots. Then one night I’m out, we finally see the dragon, and I pull my bowstring. I prepare another shot when the dragon falls, and then I’m suddenly a hero.”

Pity filled Bilbo’s heart. “That’s awful.”

“And now I’m a hero. What did I do for this to happen to me? Is it worth it?” He sighed. “I sound a little too deep, don’t I? Eru Iluvatar, I should probably just be thankful it was me and not one of my comrades.” He smirked. “Though I have made sure to raise their positions. There are no more lowly bowmen in Lake Town any longer, or at least not as long as I can help it!” 

Bilbo liked this man. In his eyes flickered the same fire that had been in his mother’s eyes, and the fire that he’d been told had burned in him as well. He was glad that that fire didn’t only appear in thieves, as noble as their intentions were, but also in others. Surely that meant that others must have it, and others could continue he and his mother’s work long after they couldn’t do it any longer.

“If anyone deserved to kill Smaug,” Bilbo said, “then it was you, Bard.”

Bard pulled an arrow from his quiver and began to play with it in his hands. It was tipped with black metal that gleamed in the torchlight. “You’re just saying that.”

Bilbo took Bard’s hands in his. “No, I can assure you,” he said, thinking back to Smaug’s mistreatment of him, “that I am speaking from the very bottom of my heart.”

Or whatever there is that is left of it, Bilbo thought.

 

“So when are you going to Lake Town?” Thorin asked. His blue eyes were filled with an emotion that Bilbo couldn’t quite detect.

“In a week,” Bilbo said. “I promise that this will help with trade. You’ll thank me for this later.”

Thorin said nothing, just scowled at him.

“You know,” Bilbo said, “if you asked me to do certain things with you I would. So why not ask?”

“You’re walking on a thin line with me, Halfling.”

“I’m only telling you the truth.”

He looked at Thorin, who for one moment bit his lip, and for one moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes. For one moment, he knew that Thorin had realized that his words were correct. His gaze softened, and then he promptly turned around and left Bilbo alone so that he could go to bed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning the chapter is kind of adult, so fair warning.

The next night, Thorin sat down to talk with him. “Let’s make an agreement,” he said. He held a piece of paper and a pen in his hand, as if writing everything down would make it real, that words out loud could not finalize it. “I thought of what you said last night, and we might as well make an agreement. So,” he said, tapping one of his fingers against his leg, “how many sexual partners have you had in the past?”

Bilbo was more than happy that Thorin was being agreeable, though this was rather strange. Still, he spoke. “None.”

“You’re a virgin?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Thorin seemed confused.

“What do you mean why?”

“You just didn’t hit me as being the chaste type.”

Bilbo didn’t question what gave him that impression. “I never had the time for that sort of thing. The thrill of stealing was my only lover, and stealing more was all my desire. I cannot say I never gazed at a few others with longing, but I simply didn’t have time for that.”

“Oh. I, I just thought you’d have a whole lot of others interested.”

Bilbo just raised an eyebrow. After knowing him for a whole year (and a day), Thorin was still an enigma. “No one ever really showed much of an interest in me, being completely honest. My family was always regarded as being rather odd.”

“I couldn’t possibly guess why.”

“We were always gone for long periods of times, and when we were around we didn’t stay long. The Shire wasn’t known for having many expensive items as hobbits are a very simple people. If they did show interest in me then it was for the money, and when they were after me for the money they were already doing well off themselves.”

“I’ve had multiple.” Thorin said. “Being king does have its benefits. So would you be prepared for this or would you need time to adjust?”

“Definitely. This is going to be quite the adjustment for me.”

“I understand.”

“So what else do we need to discuss?”

“What are your, well, preferred methods of doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“In what way do you wish to do this?”

“What am I supposed to answer with?”

Thorin sighed. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”

 

Four hours later they had finally made their contract. It stated that Bilbo could stop whenever he liked. Bilbo had mostly made sure that had been put in there, along with that Thorin would stop whenever he was uncomfortable. If he wanted someone better, then he could get someone better. This was one service that Bilbo could not easily provide.

“If this doesn’t work out,” Thorin said, “then you’re stealing Thranduil’s new elk.”

“Now that,” Bilbo said, “actually sounds like fun. If only I could see the look on his face.” Bilbo laughed. “I can’t even put into words what the thrill of stealing felt like, but it was amazing.”

“Was it a good feeling?”

“No. It was marvelous. I never could get tired of it, no matter what I stole.”

“Good,” Thorin said, putting the contract away. Both of their signatures had been neatly written on it. “Because I have service of you. New dwarves have arrived from the Iron Mountains, and I believe some may have smuggled in a few illegal items.”

“Illegal items?”

“Remember how Bard has been called a dragon slayer?” There was an edge to Bard’s name when Thorin spoke it aloud, though Bilbo couldn’t see why he hated him. The man truly was a hero, and it wasn’t just because he killed Smaug.

“Yes.”

“There have been rumors of trying to eradicate the entire species. Others have suggested killing off all the orcs and trolls.”

“It sounds like a good idea,” Bilbo said, “but surely would not all the races need to combine themselves as one whole army to achieve this goal?”

“And that’s where it gets tricky.” Thorin looked Bilbo in the eye. “And that doesn’t even begin to cover what the amounts of death of each race will be. Many will be against it simply because they don’t want their people to die.”

“Do you support it?” Bilbo asked.

“No. I’ve seen enough of my men die to orcs to have many more tear them apart. My people can’t afford such losses, and certainly cannot again face such monstrous grief.” He raised an eyebrow. “What is your opinion on it, halfling?” The way he said that word bothered Bilbo, as if somehow he spoke for every hobbit, if any were left besides himself.

“It would have no effect on anything what my opinion is. Besides, I don’t have one. None of this concerns me. I have no connections left with my people, and it could be that I am the very last of my race. Did not Thranduil say that many more have now died of their nomadic lifestyle? My days of my race are good as gone now. We fought a good fight, but this is how things end.” He meant that metaphorically-his race wasn’t known for being the greatest fighters. Still, they had survived through hardship before. They hadn’t been beaten the first time, and Bilbo guessed that was all that mattered. Surely all races would end (save perhaps elves), so at least all of them could at least have left a mark on the world.

Bilbo just hoped he himself wasn’t that mark.

 

Do you think there are any left? Bilbo asked himself later. Or are you the only one? If you are, then why must it be you? You’re far from what a hobbit normally is. Or was respectability even worth it for hobbits in the end? Respectability doesn’t stop orcs and wargs from invading your land and ripping it apart. Should things have been different? Could they have been?

In the end, Bilbo stopped thinking about it. What was there that he could do about it? If all the other hobbits were dead, as much as he didn’t want it to be that way, then they were dead.

At least there could still be one left.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter is kind of gory.

Dwarves, Bilbo noted for what must have been the hundredth time in a row, were very odd. If these illegal items were important to them, then they were awful at finding good hiding spots for them. Or perhaps that was bias speaking, as Bilbo was so well trained to find and quickly steal even the hardest to find item that in under a minute he could find a needle in a haystack.

He’d simply snuck into the newly arrived dwarves homes, looked around, found a few sacks hidden behind old and still slightly dusty furniture, and opened them. Inside were the most horribly designed propaganda posters that Bilbo had ever seen. If they were trying to win others over to their cause, they were failing. The writing was atrocious and the color scheme might as well have been lemon juice to the eyes. It said putrid things such as “We dwarves must rise together!” Did they really think all the dwarves would unite to slay off orcs, wargs, and trolls? If their king doubted it then surely others must as well.

They also held papers from others, mostly letters, discussing plans to convince others that this idea was rational. Some even supported siding with elves just to make sure none died from orc raids ever again! Elves, they actually suggested that dwarves and elves work together! One even said “We must put aside our differences to prevent future deaths”. Were they even dwarves?

Bilbo left without a word, arranging it to look as though he’d never been there. He’d fit other pieces of paper inside the sacks to look as though they hadn’t been touched, then left. He snuck past the dwarves of Erebor with a grace that could be unmatched by almost no others. As he looked at them, he wondered if any of them supported this cause, or even knew about it. How widespread was it? How many of them would have followed it?

Bilbo found a private hall and looked over it again. He was glad to be dressed in clothes fit for thieves-Shire style clothing, loose and designed for comfort. Heavy dwarf robes, and even more importantly, heavy dwarf boots, would have made his job twenty times harder. But his clothing was as it had been in the Shire, and his feet were free of any oppressive footwear.

Bilbo looked over the posters, the letters, the plans. Could dwarves really try to unite with men and elves to defeat their enemies? Did they really believe what they were saying? And in the end, would the deaths be worth it?

Stop thinking so heavily about it, Bilbo thought. None of this concerns you in any way! The orcs can all be killed off and it won’t free you from your tying to the Arkenstone.

Later on, after Thorin had been released from his daily duties, he read over what Bilbo had brought him. He nearly burst out laughing when he saw that they had suggested siding with the elves.

“Mahal,” he said. “Next do they think that we will revive our dead?”

After he finished looking over everything, he turned to Bilbo. “I have another job for you,” he said. He took something out from his pocket and threw it to Bilbo.

Bilbo caught it in midair, then held it up. “A fine knife,” he commented, running his finger over the edge. If he were mortal, his finger would be bleeding. “Of what purpose shall I use it for? I can already guess what it might pertain, but I can’t be sure.”

“Your guess is probably right,” Thorin said. “I want you to kill the dwarves that you found to be holding these items. They will likely try something, and I need not have them disturb my kingdom. What I need is peace, not war. And if their ideas were to spread then things would get worse. Once they find these things missing, they might take desperate measures. I am not going to lose my kingdom to idiots and war hungry fools.”

“It’s such a small knife,” Bilbo said.

“Are you not good with close combat?”

“No, I am good at it, but this just surprised it. You walk around with a large sword strapped to your back and here you give me nothing but a small knife.”

“I didn’t know what size to give you.”

Bilbo chuckled. “I can hold quite a few things, in all honesty.” In one moment, Thorin’s sword was strapped to his back, and in the next it was in Bilbo’s hand, a smug smile on his face. He had no trouble holding it.

“But, but, how? You just suddenly had it!”

“I need to keep my secrets safe,” was all Bilbo replied with. He handed Thorin his sword back. “Though I must admit, I’ve carried jewels ten times heavier than your sword with ease.”

“So you’ll do it?”

Bilbo threw the knife from one hand to the other. “Of course I will. How quickly do you want me to do it? Do I draw it out and make them suffer or do I end them in seconds before they have time to even realize what’s going on?”

Thorin grimaced. “You make me sound sadistic.”

“My apologies (and Bilbo meant that), but I was merely asking what I needed to do.”

“Make it quick. Get in and out as fast as you can.”

“Of course, Thorin.”

 

Bilbo snuck in just as fast as he had last, the knife clutched in his hand. He found the five dwarves sharing the home all talking, a few mugs of ale in their hands. He knew Thorin wanted him to wait it out, but it would be easier to do this when they were all, or at least most of them, passed out or asleep. If they screamed then he would’ve failed his mission.

They mostly spoke in drunken Khuzdul, so Bilbo had no idea what they spoke of. He nearly looked down at them from the ceiling, where he sat on a pillar. The knife sat in his hand, gleaming in the soft light, and it seemed to beg him to be used.

He hadn’t wanted to kill the boy, and he hadn’t wanted to kill these men, but he did not want to face the consequences. At least he hoped to make it quick so that the dwarves could die in peace. If he made it done fast enough then one second they would be alive, the next dead. It would be simple and pain free.

The first one passed out and caused the others to laugh. Bilbo forced himself to not release a sigh. He was getting tired of waiting.

They were a rather boring lot to watch. Bilbo would rather have watched Thorin shine his sword.

Will the ale just get to you already? Bilbo thought. If he had a bow then by now they’d all be dead, arrows throughout them.

When the second passed out, Bilbo nearly yelled in happiness.

The third, one with a long and dirty black beard, got up to sleep. Once he was away from the others, Bilbo cut his throat. He was dead in seconds, the knife cutting cleanly through his throat. He made not a sound. Bilbo didn’t look into his eyes, still open. He tore out the knife, wiped it clean on the dwarf’s shirt, and then waited for the others to finish. He snuck back onto the ceiling.

No one suspected a thing. The two still standing continued drinking, until at last they both passed out. At least they wouldn’t have to wake up to hangovers the next morning.

Bilbo killed them quickly, shoving the knife into their throats. On the last one, he put it clean through his head, then wiped his knife clean on a rag on the table.

He left, imagining what would be thought of when the five bodies were found the next morning.

Checking to see that he had gotten them all, he smiled. He had completed his task. He snuck away, a thief into the night.

Now there was no denying that pleasure could be found in stealing lives, though it wasn’t a pleasure he wanted to feel often.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo stares into the face of morality and it stares back.

“Mother,” Bilbo said, putting his hands behind his head, “are we criminals?” He sat under the shade of an oak tree, leaning against it, catching ladybugs in his fingers. The day was hot and humid, and sweat poured down his backside and the back of his neck. His hands were soaked like a wet rag.

“Well yes, by law,” she said, catching a ladybug of her own. She let the little red bug run across her hand before prompting it to fly away. “But we’re doing more justice than those who are supposed to uphold it.”

Bilbo knew her words were completely true. It wasn’t just blind devotion that he knew everything she said was true, for not all of it was simply because she was his mother and he her child, but what he’d learned from experience. He’d stolen with her countless times, and each time she’d proven everything she’d said. Taking gold from the greedy rich kept the poor alive another day. Their life was in his and his mother’s hands.

“Mother,” he said, gently touching the shell of a ladybug that had simply flown into his palm, “is there really any difference between us and other criminals?”

“Of course,” she said. She stood up, wiping her hands on her skirt, turning the blue fabric a shade of medium brown. “Do you think we are nothing more than petty, selfish thieves, Bilbo?”

“No, of course not! But sometimes I just get curious.”

She laughed. “Well at least that means we can still call you a Took.”

“Mother, what do you think of other criminals?”

“There are some good,” she said. “We certainly are not the first of our kind, Bilbo. I had my inspirations, you know. And of course there are some bad, but sometimes you may not even realize it.” She got up and stretched out her arms and legs. Her orange hair flowed through the breeze, making her look like what Bilbo imagined an angel to look like. “And of course some criminals have no real association. They can be good or they can be bad at times, and sometimes they are neither. More often than not those will be the majority of all the others like us that you will meet.”

“What are we, Mother?” Bilbo stood up, wiping dirt off the back of his dark green trousers. “Are we good or bad, or not anything?”

“I would call us good.” She smiled. “Or at least I would call myself that.”

“What, do you not think that I am good?” Bilbo tried to think of a time when he might have made his mother believe that he was bad, but he could not remember when. His mind was blank, but he searched for answers none the less.

She just smiled again, a look in her eyes that could almost be classified as sad. “I cannot decide for you what you are, Bilbo; only you have the power to do so.” She moved her bangs away from her eyes. “So, what kind of thief do you think you are?”

 

“I need to speak with you about yesterday,” Bilbo said.

“They have found the bodies and no one suspects a thing,” Thorin replied. He seemed rather tired from work and spoke to Bilbo as though it were a chore. “It is seen as murder, but there are no leads on who did it. Bilbo, it will never be traced to you.”

“It’s not about that,” Bilbo said, clutching the knife. He now had a new belt where he kept at his side. No longer did Thorin insist he pretend to be a dwarf-it would be too inconvenient for what he may have him do later. Once more he was a full time thief, and it showed in the Shire style clothing he now got to wear all the time. “It is about when you will need me to do this again.”

“I am unsure when, or if, I will need you again.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Of course you’ll need me again. Do you really think those beliefs died with those dwarves? Surely others will gain an interest in it. What I need to know is how to make the murders seem unrelated.”

“Use a different weapon?”

“Yes, that is a good idea, but it doesn’t cover everything. Newly arrived dwarves to Erebor suddenly being murdered will be noticed and precautions will be taken. Thorin, trends get noticed, especially when people fear for their lives. Every good thief knows to never leave a recognizable pattern. You can use a certain plan multiple times, but you must differentiate it to make sure that precautions aren’t taken. Always keep an extra trick up your sleeve.” Bilbo sighed. “But at the same time I realize that if they aren’t quickly killed off they will infect others in Erebor with their ideas.” Bilbo felt as though he was a doctor describing a disease to Thorin, who needed to stop his people from catching it and causing a deadly epidemic.

“You think far ahead, but with good reason. Impressive.”

“I do not do it to impress; I do it because it is necessary.” Bilbo took his knife out and looked down at his reflection in it. What kind of thief was he? He used to think that he was a good one, but now he couldn’t be sure. Small amounts of dried blood still wouldn’t leave the knife, no matter how many times Bilbo scrubbed away at it. Maybe that was his punishment. “Thinking ahead can prevent many tragedies.”

“So do you have any other plans to propose?”

Bilbo began to stroke his finger along the edge of the knife. His reflection seemed off, as if he were looking at an idea of himself instead not his true self. Or maybe he was looking at his true self and expecting instead an idea oh himself. These days he could not tell which was which. “Make it look like an accident. It’ll be a little tricky, but it can’t be that hard. Accidents happen, don’t they?”

“And what ‘accidents’ do you have in mind?”

“Quite simply, accidental burning. Not only will it destroy propaganda, but it will certainly not be blamed on me.”

“How do you burn stone?”

“You have a lot to find out, and that is if I decide to show you how to make it work.” Bilbo put his knife into his belt. “I will wait for the day that I am again needed.”

Thorin nodded. “Impress me once more, Halfling.”

Bilbo just waved his arm absently. “Yes, of course.” He vanished into the Arkenstone, leaving Thorin alone.

 

“To be honest,” Bilbo said, “I think I am a good thief.”

“I knew you would say that,” his mother said. “But are you truly sure?”

Bilbo nodded, clenching his fists together tightly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Mother!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm taking this chance to advertise my Tumblr:  
> http://gideondorf.tumblr.com/  
> I post sneak peeks at my fics, so if you want to learn about stuff early, make sure to check it out.

**Author's Note:**

> Just picture Bilbo telling Thorin that his Wii remote batteries are running low.


End file.
